by Linda Ford
Bruce chuckled. “I see it. You are about to reach home, Mrs. Reynolds.”
Mrs. Rey—? Oh, he meant her. She was now Mrs. Reynolds. She tried not to think that it was both strange and unwelcome, changing who she was.
Bruce continued. “Have you given any thought to what the children should call me? I don’t care to be addressed as Mr. Reynolds day in and day out.”
Of course, she hadn’t given it any thought. She’d agreed to marriage because it enabled her to return home. It promised, at the very least, a hired man she could afford. And if he left, she would stay. She would not be dragged about as her father had done to her mother. But things were changing too fast. First, being called Mrs. Reynolds and now a way for the children to address him. Did he expect them to call him papa? Wheel turn by wheel turn, she was being sucked into a life she hadn’t planned, hadn’t even had time to think about.
“Would you object to them calling me Uncle Bruce?”
His voice broke into her troubled thoughts. Uncle? Her breath eased out of her tense lungs. “That would be acceptable.” Hopefully he didn’t notice the way her words rushed out, driven by her relief at his suggestion.
“Uncle Bruce,” Donny said. “There’s the turnoff.”
Stella curled her hands into knuckle-popping bunches. She’d not been back to the farm since Flora and Kade had taken her more than half dead to the Kinsleys. The low barn still stood. Had she expected it to disappear? The corrals were empty. The chicken yard overgrown. Kade had taken her livestock to his farm to care for it.
Bruce pulled to a halt in front of the house.
Stella climbed down before he could make his way around to help her. She ran to the door and flung it open. Her heart overflowed with joy, and she laughed. “It’s so clean. Flora has been looking after it.”
Bruce stood behind her. “Flora?”
“She’s one of the Kinsley girls. Remember, I told you she and her husband Kade rescued me. They live further along the trail. They have my livestock.”
Bruce grinned at her. “I can see you’re glad to be home.”
“I can’t deny it.” She laughed again, out of pure pleasure. “My home.” She sobered. “Your home too.” She couldn’t forget that. “And Aunt Mary’s. Let’s get a place ready for her.” She headed for the middle bedroom then stopped. “She won’t want to be shut up in her room all day long.” There was nothing in the small living area that would be comfortable for her.
“She might be glad of a few hours to rest after the ride out here.”
“Of course. I’ll prepare the room.” The bed was made up. It had been where she and Frank slept. After his death, she had chosen to sleep in the third room, which would now become Bruce’s room. She moved a table closer to the bed so Aunt Mary could reach things without moving. She glanced around. Frank had always liked an easy chair in the room. An idea grew.
Stella turned to Bruce. “We could move that chair out to the other room and make a stool for her leg.”
“Good idea.” Before she could offer to help, he grasped the arms and shuffled it from the room. “Where do you want it?”
“Here.” She indicated a place which would put Aunt Mary out of the way of traffic. The last thing Stella wanted was the children bumping into her. But it was a spot that would enable her to be part of the activities of the home.
As if on cue, the children ran inside. “The cats are gone,” Donny yelled.
“I expect Flora and Kade took them to their place.”
“Are we getting them back?”
Stella was about to say they would when she realized she had to now confer with Bruce before she would make a decision. It would take getting used to. “It depends on Uncle Bruce.”
He blinked. “Me?” He shrugged. “A farm needs cats. Kids need kittens.”
The children raced back outside.
Bruce waited until they were away from the door. “Stella, I don’t object to you making decisions.” His eyes turned the color of night.
She held his gaze, not wanting him to guess how uncertain and unsettled she felt. “My pa made all the decisions.” The words stumbled from her mouth.
“Did your husband too?”
“Frank? We had a division of labor, as he called it. He ran the farm. I took care of the children and the house.”
“Sounds like living separate lives.”
She’d sometimes thought the same thing. Frank didn’t think it necessary for her to concern herself with outside things apart from the garden and chickens. “It worked.”
He nodded. “Let’s get Aunt Mary into bed, then we’ll discuss how we are going to handle our shared lives.”
He carried his aunt in, and they got her settled.
“I’ll bring tea,” Stella said, hoping it would provide an excuse for delaying that talk Bruce had in mind. Her mind had jittered from one thing to another since his announcement. How did he plan to run things? She should have thought to ask before she said I do. Now she was trapped.
“I’ll rest for now, if you don’t mind.” Aunt Mary’s face was drawn.
“Do you want more laudanum?” Stella asked.
“I wouldn’t mind.”
Stella gave her a dose, and then they left her. She pulled the door closed and then stalled, unable to face what this new life might entail.
She’d saved her homestead. That was what mattered.
Except she knew it wasn’t. What if she had jumped from the frying pan into the fire, all for the sake of returning to her home?
5
Bruce wanted to assure Stella she didn’t need to look so wary. So tense. He half thought of touching her to let her know he cared how she felt, but he wondered if she would jump like a frog. Causing her to do so would be unkind. He’d seen and experienced enough unkindness to never want to be responsible for inflicting it.
“Let’s unload the wagon as we talk.” Keeping on the move would surely drive away some of the tension in her.
She followed him outside. He gave her a box of supplies and carried in a larger one. They crowded into the narrow pantry and began filling the shelves.
“What sort of rules do you want?” she asked.
“I hadn’t thought of rules. All that matters to me is that Aunt Mary is cared for. I owe her so much.” His voice deepened. “If not for her, I don’t know where I’d be or how things would have turned out.”
Stella emptied her box and began to lift items from his. “We were clear about that. And about you helping with the farm. Until I got sick, I was taking care of it on my own after Frank died.”
Now seemed like a good time to learn more about that. “How did he die, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Pneumonia, a year ago.”
“I’m sorry. It must have been tough for you.”
“One of the hardest things was not having a preacher here. The Kinsleys hadn’t arrived yet. Neighbors were farther apart then too. Norm White learned of my situation and sent some of the good people from town to help lay him away. There were already plans for the new church, so at least he is in the graveyard there.”
Her hands had grown idle. Her gaze went to the distance. Bruce understood she was seeing into her past.
“Did you think of leaving the homestead? Perhaps moving into town?”
Her gaze hit him with enough force to make him settle back on his heels. “This is my home. I intend to keep it.” She swallowed visibly, seemed to pull her thoughts back. “With your help. That’s all I want.”
This had all been discussed prior to their marriage.
Her brown eyes probed his gaze. He wasn’t sure what she sought or if he could offer it. “We’re new to this. I can’t say what things we will disagree on. Or if I’ll disappoint you. Let’s agree to address issues as they arise. If something bothers you, or you aren’t happy with something I’ve done, I’d just as soon you told me. My experience had led me to believe that things kept hidden eventually break loose, and it’s not usually in a nice w
ay.” He couldn’t have explained to anyone why he had given such a long speech about a simple discussion. Thankfully, she didn’t ask for more detail.
“I like that. We can discuss problems as they arise.” She put the last item on the shelf, and they returned to the wagon. “Only one thing I need to make clear.”
He waited, wondering what expectations were going to be thrust upon him.
“I’d like to be kept informed.”
“Of what?”
“Everything and anything. This is now your farm, but it’s mine too. If there is something amiss, or a change of any sort, I need to know about it.”
“Do you think I can’t manage on my own?”
“Not at all. Besides, how would I know that?” Her eyes narrowed. “Unless you’re meaning to warn me of something?” She waited, but he had nothing to say to that. “Fine. I want to be involved in the farming. After Frank died, I had to learn all sorts of things by trial and error. I prefer to be better informed this time.”
“This time?” He shuddered. “You’re expecting me to die?” Didn’t she say her husband had died of pneumonia? Had anyone verified that? Had he married a black widow?
She chuckled.
He did not, as he tried to think if there was any malice in her amusement. He couldn’t tell.
“I simply want to be able to stand on my own should the need arise.”
“Now hold on a minute. We’ve been married less than four hours, and you’re already eliminating me from the scene. What’s going on?”
She laughed, the sound so merry that he almost smiled in enjoyment. Might have except for her talk of managing on her own. Where did she think he would be?
“I guess you deserve an explanation.”
“I would say so.”
“My pa was a wanderer. I can’t count the number of times he promised ‘this will be the last time we move,’ but it never was. They are still on the move.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, her gaze going up and down his length.
What did she see? Or think she saw? “What has that to do with me?”
“You’ll forgive me if I wonder how long you’ll stay. That’s why I want to learn how to do things for myself.”
“Forgive you? How long I’ll stay? Does my word mean nothing?”
“I don’t know.” Her gaze bored a hole clear through his brain. “Does it?”
He grabbed the box and headed outside.
She followed. “Does it?”
“There are many who think it doesn’t solely because I am an orphan who was found wandering the streets. An urchin, I was called. And we all know that urchins are thieves and liars.”
“I didn’t say that.” Her words rang with protest.
“You might as well have.”
She hurried to get in front of him and stopped to face him, forcing him to stop too. “I am speaking only from my experience. But I think I have the right to reserve judgement. Just as you do.”
He held her rock-hard gaze unblinkingly. “There is truth in the fact that we must learn about each other, but I hoped we could start out with a little trust. A little faith in each other.”
“‘Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.’” Her voice grew quiet. “That’s a Bible verse.”
“I’m aware of that. I’ve attended church regularly since Aunt Mary took me in. More importantly, she taught me the scriptures.”
“You’re asking me to have faith in you when I don’t know you.”
He shrugged. “Guess that’s too much to ask. I’d settle for at least giving me a chance without prejudice.”
Her shoulders bowed forward. “I guess I am guilty of that. I’m sorry. Can we start again?”
“Gladly.” This might prove to be a more difficult task than he anticipated. But no one had forced him to agree to the arrangement, and he meant to give it his very best.
“I judged you by my pa, and that wasn’t fair.”
They searched each other’s eyes. He wished he could guess her thoughts. But one thing troubled him. “What about Frank? Was he like your pa?”
She shrugged, though her expression was one of confusion, not indifference. “He died. I know it wasn’t his fault, but it’s the worst sort of leaving, wouldn’t you say?”
“It is indeed.” Bruce had been left by his parents. Left homeless. Left to manage on his own.
She seemed to understand. “Seems we both need to know we’re safe.”
He liked that. Feeling like they had reached an agreement, he returned to the wagon and picked up a few items of clothing. “These are mine.”
“Where are the children?” She glanced around. “Oh, there they are, by the corrals. I wonder what sort of stories Donny is telling Blossom.” Stella studied her children and smiled. “I’ll show you to your room.”
He followed her into the small room beside his aunt’s.
“It isn’t much.” Stella sounded apologetic.
“It’s fine.” A narrow cot. A low dresser and a table by the bed. He hung his clothes on nearby pegs.
Stella watched.
He crossed his arms and faced her. If she wanted to say something, he was prepared to listen.
“This was the right thing to do.”
He couldn’t tell if she voiced doubts or not. “Are you having second thoughts?” He’d had a few in the last hour. Not that they would be allowed to control his actions or choices.
She smiled. He would guess she felt rather pleased with things. “Not at the moment, but I’m sure I shall from time to time.”
“Fair enough.”
“You likely will too.” Her expression hardened.
“I made a choice, and I intend to stick to it.”
“Good to hear.” She turned on her heel and left him staring at the empty doorway. Why did words that should have made him feel like they were in agreement instead make him feel like he’d been warned? He would have asked her, but the children came inside.
“Mama, when are we getting the cows? And the cats? And the chickens?” Donny asked.
“Want kitties. Want chickens.” Blossom echoed her brother.
“I can’t rightly say. We need a chance to settle in.” She hurried to the kitchen and rattled pots on the stove.
“I’ll look after the horses and have a look around,” Bruce said. “Who wants to help me?”
The children rushed after him. Blossom tripped on his heels, and he caught her hand. They walked side by side to the wagon. He lifted them both to the seat and led the team to the barn, where he unhitched them and took them inside to groom them. Done with that, he brought in his riding horse, Smokey, who had patiently followed the wagon these last few days.
He brushed the horses and turned them out to graze in the nearby pasture then returned to have a look around this place that was now partly his. The barn was small. Only four stalls and a tack room. He stood in the doorway studying the harnesses and tools. Well-equipped and tidy. He turned his attention to the stalls. The first three he checked were clean. Had Stella done that or the neighbor she’d mentioned? Kade, if he remembered correctly. In the last stall, hay had been trampled to smoothness. Almost like a nest. Strange that this pen wasn’t as clean as the others, and yet it wasn’t soiled. Oh well. He’d take care of it later. Right now he wanted to take the hoops and canvas off the wagon and store them inside, out of the elements. Then he’d have a look around and see what needed to be done.
Smoke filled the house.
“Are we on fire,” Aunt Mary called from her room.
“I didn’t think to check the chimney.” Stella tossed a rug against the bottom of Aunt Mary’s door. “That should keep most of it out of your room. Holler if it’s not enough.” She pushed aside the wood from the smoking fire and rushed about opening windows and the door. She coughed. What was wrong with her? She should have known some bird would have used the chimney for a nest in the months she’d been away.
Her eyes streamed tears as she flapp
ed a towel to chase the smoke out the open door.
Bruce clattered into the house. “What’s on fire? You children stay outside.”
“The chimney must be blocked.” She coughed again. And again.
“Aunt Mary?”
“I’m okay.” The woman didn’t cough, so Stella knew the smoke wasn’t too bad in her room.
Stella’s throat choked with the fumes. She couldn’t stop coughing. Tears flowed freely.
“You might as well wait outside for the smoke to clear.” Bruce caught her hand and pulled her into the fresh air.
“Mama, you all right?” Blossom asked.
“It’s just smoke,” Donny assured his little sister.
Stella dried her eyes on her apron and could finally breathe without coughing. “That was foolish of me. I should have thought to check the chimney.”
“No harm done. As soon as it cools, I’ll climb up there and see what’s blocking it.”
“Thanks.” At least he didn’t scold her. She appreciated that but wasn’t sure how to say so. Perhaps there wasn’t need to say anything.
She looked around at her farm and let the satisfaction of being back home settle into her bones. “I don’t suppose you’ve had time to explore the place.”
“Not yet. The barn is pretty clean. Either you left it that way or your neighbor has taken care of it.”
“I expect it’s a little of both. I can’t rightly recall the last few days I was here.” She looked to see that the children were out of hearing. “Except for the bitter cold and my fear we would all die. I was too weak to bring in wood or make a meal. A three-day storm had blown in. So cold.” She shivered as the awful memory of those days surfaced.
“You’re all alive and well. Your pantry is full. I’ll make sure there is a good supply of firewood. Together we can make sure you never have to live through such an experience again.”
His reassurance eased away her dark, painful memories. “‘Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour.’” She gave a dry chuckle. “I’ve never been one to quote Bible verses. It must be from spending so much time at the preacher’s house.”
