Of Peaks and Prairies (Paradise Valley Book 1)

by Vivi Holt

  With a cry, she rushed up the hill to where she could see the wagons unloading their supplies into the newly constructed larder in the cowboy’s quarters. Thomas. Her heart leaped. Thomas. Her darling Thomas. She had to tell him!

  Her lungs screamed for air under the tight stays as she ran. She puffed hard and pushed herself onward. She had to reach him, tell him that she was free. What would he say? What would he do? She didn’t know, and for once she didn’t care – she loved him and she was going to tell him, throw herself at him if need be.

  When she reached the crest of Tabletop, she spun around in a circle, her eyes searching frantically for his black Stetson in the midst of a throng of cowboys unloading the wagons. Her breath came in ragged bursts and her chest heaved. Where was he?

  She saw the hat, bobbing between a wagon and the larder. And she ran to him.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Thomas hefted a bag of flour onto his shoulders and jostled it to balance it before he took it into their newly-built larder. He was proud of what they’d accomplished in the short time they’d been in Paradise Valley.

  The bunkhouse was almost completed, despite several light snow showers since they’d arrived to hamper their efforts. There was now plenty of room for the men to sleep indoors, meaning they no longer had to camp outside in the cold. The building was comprised of a kitchen, a sitting room with a fireplace, a bunk room where most of the men would sleep, and four small private bedrooms. Bill and Sarah were still sleeping in their wagon. Their room only needed a roof before they could move into it.

  They’d used the plentiful hardwoods in the area, cutting them down and splitting them, to build the structure from long, sturdy planks. They’d cut and dried the long brown grasses on the plains and lugged them up the hill to stuff into fabric covers as straw ticks. Genevieve had been hard at work sewing linens, curtains, tablecloths and more. Everyone had contributed and the ranch was beginning to feel like home.

  He lifted an arm and rubbed a hand across his face. It had been a long day. They’d arrived in Bozeman after lunch yesterday and spent the afternoon shopping for supplies. Even with all of that, he still didn’t have everything they’d need to get through the winter. He planned to make another trip to purchase hay, salt licks and barrels of molasses to tide the herd over until spring. Then today they’d traveled slowly, with full wagons, back to camp.

  Camp. It was time he thought about naming the place, so they didn’t have to keep calling it that. Perhaps Paradise Ranch? He’d have to think about it. Maybe Genevieve would have some ideas.

  His thoughts turned to Genevieve and their last encounter. It brought a frown to his face just thinking about the words that had spilled from her mouth. Remembering her tears sent a stabbing pain through his gut. He strode toward the larder, trying to shake the memory from his head.

  “Tom!”

  Her voice cut through his thoughts and the noise of the busy construction site. He turned to see her running toward him, a letter flapping in one hand as she ran and her face rosy. A smile lit up her features. She stopped in front of him, gasping for breath and trying to speak. Thomas dropped the sack of flour to the ground and removed his Stetson to scratch his head. “What’s wrong, Genny?”

  Finally she caught her breath. “I got a letter from my friend Cora. Do you remember me talking about her?”

  He nodded and shoved the hat back onto his head. Why was she in such a flurry over a letter from a friend?

  “Fred and Quincey are dead.” She paused and waited for his reaction, watching his face closely.

  “What?”

  “They’re dead. Do you remember when that stranger Holden Sommerfeld stopped at our campsite for the night? He said he’d seen two men shot by arrows on the prairie south of where we were. It was them! The Army found their bodies weeks later. They’re dead – they’ve been dead for months now. All this time, I thought I was still married – I wasn’t. I’m a widow.” Her face lit up with joy, the incongruity between her words and her demeanor completely lost on her.

  “You’re not married?” A smile slid across his mouth, hiding in the thick of his beard. “You’re not married!” He ran to her and picked her up, throwing her into the air above his head with a loud whoop and holler. He caught her and gently lowered her down until her mouth slanted over his in a long, slow kiss.

  All around them, cowboys stopped what they were doing to watch with a grin. Soon the air was filled with shouts, catcalls and whistles as their kiss lingered on, oblivious to everything around them.

  Thomas set her feet on the ground and wrapped his arms around her. “She’s a widow!” he cried. His words were met with confused silence from the group. “Sorry, that didn’t sound right.” His eyebrows lowered into a frown.

  He turned to face Genevieve and lowered himself to one knee. As he took her hand in his, he lifted his hat from his head and set it on the ground beside his knee. Thomas’ eyes sparkled at her and he drew a deep breath into his lungs before speaking. “Genny, my darling. From the first moment I laid eyes on you, fast asleep with your belly stuffed with good foods from my chuck wagon …”

  Snickering and wolf whistles erupted for a moment.

  “Pipe down!” he ordered with a gruff chuckle. “From that moment on, I knew you were the one for me. I’ve loved you for a while now. I’m not sure when it happened – perhaps that night in the river when I was bathing and you …”

  Genevieve covered her face with her free hand and shook her head in embarrassment as more whistling and whooping rang out.

  “Sorry … what I mean is, I love you. You’re everything I’ve dreamed of, all I’ve ever wanted. Will you marry me and spend your life here, with me?” He waited, impatience written clearly across his handsome face.

  “Yes, I’ll marry you, Thomas O’Reilly.”

  He jumped to his feet, his heart pounding with excitement, and took her in his arms. Bending over her, he kissed her hard on the mouth as they were surrounded with good wishes, thumps on the back and more whooping in celebration of their engagement. His heart was full as he gazed around Tabletop. His eyes rested on the space where their ranch house would sit – now it would be theirs, not his alone. His joy was complete.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  A week had passed since Genevieve had agreed to marry Thomas. Everything was coming together nicely with their wedding plans and for Paradise Ranch, the name they’d agreed on for their home. Thomas was heading back to Bozeman the following day to get the last of the supplies needed for wintering the stock and to finalize some details for the wedding.

  Genevieve had bought a bolt of navy blue wool with a charcoal filigree pattern when they passed through town on their way to Paradise Valley, and she and Sarah had almost finished sewing her wedding dress from the fabric. She couldn’t wait to wear it. It was the most beautiful dress she’d ever had, sewn in the modern style with a low neckline, full sleeves with a small puff at each shoulder, and a matching shawl.

  Their nearest neighbors, the Drothertons, had visited a few days earlier and left them with a dozen laying hens, for which they were all grateful. It wasn’t enough to provide eggs for the entire crew, but it was a good start for their chicken coop. Vaquero had bonded immediately with the hens and offered to build them a coop, which he did in a day’s work. Genevieve lifted a handful of dried corn and threw it to the waiting birds. With night approaching it was time to secure them in the coop, and she shut the door as the last one ran through to peck at the corn on the ground.

  “Genny,” called Sarah.

  She left the coop and strode toward the bunkhouse. “I’m here.”

  “How are the chickens?”

  “No eggs yet, but they seem to be settling in fine.”

  “I can’t wait for a delicious egg.”

  “That will be wonderful, won’t it? But I don’ think we’ll see one until spring.”

  Sarah fell into step beside Genevieve as she wandered toward the bunkhouse. “I thought we migh
t try cornbread, buttermilk and roast beef for supper. Does that sound okay?” Genevieve nodded.

  As they rounded the end of the bunkhouse she stopped in her tracks. Thomas was there, his hat pushed back on his head, a hammer in one hand. Around him stood a round pen built of timber rails with a gate, close to the back door of the bunkhouse. Inside the pen stood Patches, slurping happily from a pail of milk. “What’s all this?” she asked, with a smile.

  “I thought Patches here might need a pen of her own. Once the snow really falls, you’ll need to be able to find her quickly, so I wanted to have her close to the bunkhouse. I don’t want you traipsing through ice and snow looking for her.” He walked to Genevieve and took her hands in his, kissing her palms one at a time.

  She still wasn’t used to his open affection and it made her squirm, though she liked it all the same. She’d never seen a man treat a woman so lovingly, especially not in front of other people. “Tom, that’s so considerate. I love it – it’s perfect. I can’t believe you thought of it. I would never have asked you to do it, given how hard you’ve been working and how much you and the men have to achieve. Thank you, my darling.” She stretched up on tiptoe to kiss him lightly on the lips.

  He grinned. “Anything that gets me one of those.”

  She slapped playfully at his arm. “Is that all you want?”

  He tipped his head to one side as if to think it through. “Just about …”

  “You rogue!”

  He laughed loud and low and dipped her in his arms for another kiss. By now, Sarah had disappeared into the bunkhouse to start supper and Genevieve was glad of it. The awkwardness left her when they were alone and she could enjoy his company more fully.

  “Are you ready to marry me yet?” he asked, setting her back on her feet.

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Well, you’ll have to. Just a little longer. I haven’t found a minister to marry us yet and I still have to go to town for a few things. But I hope we’ll be able to have the wedding soon after I return. Do you need anything else while I’m in Bozeman?”

  “I think I have everything I could need. Although it might be nice to get a blanket … for our bed.”

  “I like the sound of that.” His eyes twinkled and he ran the tips of his fingers down the length of her arm, making her shiver with pleasure. “A blanket? You got it.”

  They linked hands and walked together. “The bunkhouse looks fantastic. You all did a wonderful job,” said Genevieve, smiling up at him.

  “It’s finished, finally. And so is the barn. The fence-line for the winter pens should be done by the time I get back from town. I still can’t believe the heavy snow has held off this long. Someone must be looking out for us.”

  “I worry about you traveling so far by wagon this late in the season.”

  “I’ll be fine. If it looks like snow, we’ll turn back. Only we’ll have to get to town sometime. I had Dan fashion some sleigh runners for Bill and Sarah’s wagon, so if we are caught we should be able to hunker down until the storm passes, fix them to the wagon and make our way home. I’ll be trading the furs we’ve trapped while we’re in town as well – those that we haven’t kept for our own use. Hopefully we’ll be able to get some good credit at the mercantile with those.”

  Genevieve nodded. “I’m going to help Sarah prepare supper.”

  He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “I’ll see you later, then. I have to go and help with the fences.” They parted ways and she watched him stride down the hill to where the herd was grazing and the men were hard at work. Her heart felt full and she hummed as she skipped into the bunkhouse.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Two days later, Genevieve found herself waiting once again by the river for Thomas to return from Bozeman. The sky was still full of yellow-gray clouds, and this time she didn’t think they’d escape a heavy snowfall. On her lap sat a letter she was writing to Cora, telling her about the upcoming wedding and everything that had happened since her last correspondence. She sat beneath the same tree as before and gazed off toward the horizon.

  When two wagons appeared, she jumped to her feet in delight. They’d made it home, and it looked as though Thomas had bought a new covered wagon, much bigger than the others. Her heart skipped a beat and she ran to meet them.

  Seated on the timber bench driving the new wagon, Thomas grinned and dipped his hat at her as they reached her. He stopped the wagon so she could climb aboard. She sat beside him and looped her arm through his, giving him a kiss on his bearded cheek. He clucked to the mules and drove them up the hill to Tabletop. “I’m so glad to see you,” she said, holding close to his side.

  “No more than I to see you. And I have a surprise for you.”

  “A surprise?”

  He winked at her.

  When the wagon stopped he leaped from it to run to the back and untie the canvas cover. Dan arrived to help him remove the skeleton of the wagon top, and Genevieve gaped in surprise and delight. The entire bed of the wagon was filled with new furniture and linens. There looked to be a large double bed with a mattress, sheets, blankets, pillows and more. She could hardly believe her eyes. “A new bed?”

  He wrapped his hands behind her waist and pulled her close. “Just for you, my bride.”

  “Oh Tom, it’s wonderful.”

  “There are linens for the bed, including a horsehair mattress, feather comforter and pillows. Woolen blankets and bed-warmers for everyone. Towels, cloths, bolts of fabrics and lace and dozens of other things Mrs. Brown at the mercantile said a new bride needed for her trousseau – though I couldn’t tell you what for. I practically bought the place out.”

  “Where did you find a bed?” Genevieve’s eyes were wide as she considered his generosity and thoughtfulness.

  “Oh, I ordered it from a local carpenter last time I was in town. It was meant for me, but now it will be ours. We’ll pick out the rest of the furniture for the ranch house together once it’s built. Do you like it?”

  She buried her face in his coat. “I love it. I can’t believe you did all of this.”

  “Anything for you, my love.” He gently stroked her hair and waited patiently for her to compose herself, then tipped her head up toward his with one finger. “Oh, and I found us a minister.”

  “You did?”

  “Apparently the Presbyterian minister has been down at the southern end of Paradise Valley visiting his brother. I’ve sent word for him to stop in here on his way back to Bozeman. Mr. Brown reckons he’ll probably arrive in a few days’ time. We can get married the following day.”

  Genevieve smiled and reached up to stroke his cheek. “You’ve thought of everything, Mr. O’Reilly.”

  ***

  A few days later the minister, Rev. Langston, arrived. He showed up suddenly atop a black gelding with a graying face. Genevieve settled him into a room in the bunkhouse that had been recently furnished with a rough-hewn timber bed, a simple chest filled with blankets and linens, and floral print curtains she’d sewn with care. The wedding date was set for the following day.

  All day, Genevieve’s stomach churned and fluttered with nervousness. She and Sarah baked pies, puddings, biscuits, roast beef and all sorts of other good things to eat the following night after the wedding. By supper time, they were both exhausted, covered in flour and starving. They quickly set about preparing a supper of hotcakes, syrup and sausages. The Dutch oven was set outside in the coals of the fire and Genevieve carried the thick hotcake batter out to it. She removed the lid with a cloth, placed some hot coals from the fire inside the top of the oven and turned the lid over to act as a skillet.

  Cookie hurried from the bunkhouse and shook his head. “So, um … I need yer help, Genny.”

  “Oh yes? With what, Cookie?” She turned to face him, the pitcher of hotcake batter raised high in her hand ready to pour into the skillet.

  “Set the batter down and come with me. I’ll show ya.”

  She placed the pitcher on the ground be
side the fire and shrugged at Sarah, who watched them with a smile. As she followed Cookie into the darkness, she noticed a candle by his feet, then another and another. He followed the trail of candles across the ground and stopped to face her with a grin.

  Behind him, beside a blanket that was laid out on the grass, stood Thomas. His hands were locked in front of him as he waited on her, his eyes gleaming. All around the blanket was a circle of candles glimmering in the darkness. A basket sat in the center of the blanket. Thomas reached out a hand to her and Genevieve took it. “What’s all this?” she laughed and linked her fingers through his.

  “We’re getting married tomorrow, so I wanted tonight to be special. We’re having dinner here, under the stars …” He gestured skyward, then hesitated with a chuckle. “… well, under the clouds at least. I was hoping for stars, but I’ll settle for candlelight.”

  Genevieve’s hand flew to her mouth. “Tom, it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  Thomas led her to the blanket and she sat gracefully, tucking her legs beneath her and smoothing her skirts to cover her ankles. He sat beside her and leaned in close to lay a blanket over their laps. Cookie served them plates of food and drink from the basket, then disappeared back to the bunkhouse to help Sarah. The two of them ate, talked and laughed together, enjoying a rare moment of solitude.

  After their plates were clean and the cold air had buried its way through Genevieve’s cape and into her very bones, Thomas noticed her shivering and asked her to dance – his hand held out to her. She laughed and laid her hand in his. “But how can we dance? There’s no music and no dance floor.”

  He helped her stand and pulled her after him away from the picnic blanket. He turned to pull her close and lifted his arms into a dancer’s stance. “We don’t need music or a dance floor. We have everything we need right here.” He lifted a hand to run his fingers down her cheek, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.