Mail-Order Brides of Oak Grove

by Lauri Robinson

  He glanced at her, raising one brow.

  She guessed it was the first real personal question she had asked. It took him so long to answer that she wondered if he thought her too nosy.

  “I came here three years ago from Virginia.”

  What craziness had persuaded him to stay in such a desolate place?

  “And what...what made you decide to stay?”

  “My brother had a small congregation here and needed someone to build a church. He wrote and asked me.”

  “Oh! Your brother is pastor of the church?”

  “No. No...he’s gone now. Died in an accident. But I’ll finish what I started.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say to that. She was curious to know what had happened, but she judged by his tone that he would not appreciate her prying.

  Then, rising out of the sea of waist-high grass, she recognized the shape of buildings against the blue sky and clouds in the distance. “Is that it? Why, we could almost walk there!”

  “That’s it,” he said. “But distances can fool you out here. Things look closer than they really are. Those outbuildings are another two miles yet.”

  He was right. It seemed to take forever to go those last few miles. They passed the stable first and then the corral where three ranch hands worked at breaking a young horse. When Jackson finally stopped the horse and buggy before the large white house, Mary was already coming down the front porch steps, wiping her hands on her apron. Mary in an apron? Goodness!

  Jackson jumped out, and then helped Maggie from the buggy, his hands strong and firm on her waist. She felt the muscles in his shoulders bunch and relax beneath her fingers as he swung her effortlessly to the ground. Had all that sawing and sanding given him such strength?

  He met her gaze, his own green and serious. “Looks like Steve’s over at the corral. I’ll take a walk over and say hello...see how he’s doing with that colt. That will give you a moment with your sister.” Then he turned back to help Anna down.

  His words, his actions, impressed on her his kindness. He could be quite agreeable when he chose to be. She turned and ran straightaway to Mary, flinging her arms around her. Tears burned in her eyes. “I’m sorry about the train.”

  Mary wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tight. “’Tis forgotten. We both have our tempers.”

  Her familiar shoulder felt like coming home. Oh, how Maggie had missed her! “I couldn’t wait another day to make sure you were all right.”

  “It’s good you came. I’ve been so worried about you.”

  She sniffed. “You smell of onions!” The words came out muffled against her sister’s shoulder. “You really are working, aren’t you?”

  Mary chuckled, and then peered over Maggie’s shoulder. “I see you brought Anna.”

  Maggie pulled back from her sister and looked across the expanse of dirt and long grass toward the stable. “She’s making eyes at Mr. Miller. I don’t know who was chaperoning who on our trip here.”

  Her sister took her hand and squeezed. “Looks like she’s following him to the corral. Come inside and we will catch up.”

  Maggie followed her into the front parlor. Two tall windows let light into the room. An upright piano stood against the inner wall. An oval braided rug in shades of green and blue had seen better days, but still added a bit of cool color to the room.

  “Would you care for something to drink?” Mary asked. “I have some fresh buttermilk.”

  Maggie giggled. “Goodness, you sound like I’m a guest rather than your sister.”

  “You are both. And someone I’m extremely happy to see.”

  Mary glanced out the window as she spoke and Maggie took the chance to study her. She looked well. Happy even. For the first time in three days, Maggie relaxed. “I had to make sure you were all right.”

  “I am,” Mary said. “Jess tried to tell you that, but you kept disappearing on him.”

  “Jess Rader? You know him?”

  “Yes. He works here. Steve had sent him to town last night to fetch Dr. Graham.”

  She lowered her shoulders on a long sigh. She had led him on a merry chase when all he had been trying to do was Mary’s bidding. “I had no idea. I thought he was after me for another reason,” she admitted.

  “A dance mayhap? Or to join him in a song?”

  “No.” They had danced twice together and not once did Mr. Rader mention Mary’s name. Part of the fault was his.

  Mary had that look on her face. The one that said she was frustrated with the choices Maggie made. A sinking sensation filled her. She hated to be at odds with her sister.

  “Come into the kitchen. I need to put the beef in the oven.”

  “So you really are cooking meals for people?” She’d never thought of Mary as a cook. She was just her sister.

  “Yes, that’s what a cook does, and what I’ve done for years. Cooking for ten isn’t that much different than cooking for two or three.”

  Maggie had strong doubts about that as she followed Mary. It sounded awful. Like an indentured servant. “Ten?”

  Her sister grinned. “Some of the men eat enough for two, and unlike you and Da, they are all very appreciative of my skills.”

  Maggie stiffened. “Da and I were never unappreciative of your cooking. We both knew neither of us would have had anything to eat if not for you.”

  “I’m sorry. I was teasing you. I just wanted you to know I’m appreciated here, and well, enjoying it. However...” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she stopped in the hallway. Her eyes twinkled with suppressed excitement. “I have a plan. This is the perfect place to bottle up the tonic and to make a second batch. Steve has an entire crock of honey in the root cellar. By the time I’m done working here, we’ll have more than enough money to leave town with enough tonic to sell in order to get us wherever we choose to go.”

  * * *

  Jackson finished taking measurements for the storage cabinets Putnam had asked him to build and tucked the stub of his pencil and the paper with his figuring in his shirt pocket. He’d had an excellent cup of coffee and sampled Maggie’s sister’s amazing ginger cookies, and now he was well and truly ready to go. He’d have to round up Miss Anna Camp. After a polite suggestion from Putnam, she had wandered off with a couple of ranch hands set on showing her the sights of the ranch.

  He walked from the barn and joined Putnam outside. The cool breeze of the morning had warmed considerably. With the sun just past its zenith, it would be a hot drive back to town once they started.

  Maggie approached with her sister and he found himself searching both women for hints of a difference between them. They walked alike, talked alike, even laughed alike. If they were wearing the same clothes, would he be able to tell them apart? It would be a pleasant task. They were both very pretty. But, noting the sparkle in both their eyes, would that make them double the trouble?

  Maggie chose that moment to look directly at him and smile. “Mr. Miller, I believe it’s time for us to return to town.”

  She probably realized exactly what he’d been thinking. He got warm under the collar. People staring—it must happen to her all the time when she was with her sister. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  At that moment, Miss Camp appeared from around the far corner of the barn. “I believe I’ve seen enough cows for a long, long time.”

  They walked toward the front of the house and the waiting buggy.

  “You’re welcome to visit anytime, Maggie,” Putnam said.

  “Thank you, Mr. Putnam. I will be back, and in the meantime I do expect you to take very good care of my sister.”

  The sweet smile she bestowed on the rancher, made something twist in Jackson’s gut. A response he wasn’t about to analyze.

  They waited while the sisters said their goodbyes to each o
ther, hugging and clinging like they might never see each other again. He tightened his jaw. They sure hugged a lot. He’d never been that way. It was his brother that would hug, his brother that had a heart for everyone and everything.

  Putnam helped Miss Camp into the buggy.

  Maggie released her sister, dabbed at her eyes, and then walked around the horse to him. It took him by surprise, but warmed him too, that she would prefer he helped her into the buggy. Her eyes glistened more than usual, but he tried not to notice. A woman’s tears were a private thing. Suddenly Maggie seemed fragile and delicate, like his mother’s fine china. He helped her up, slow and gentle-like. Then taking a deep breath, he climbed up and sat down next to her.

  He unlatched the brake, nodded to Putnam and Mary, and then turned the horse toward the road.

  At his side, Maggie held herself tight, her arms crisscrossed over her waist while she locked her gaze on her lap.

  He studied the pale curve of Maggie’s cheek and was at a loss for words to comfort her. “Giving you a ride out here ended up helping me too. Steve Putnam ordered new storage for his barn.”

  Her chin trembled. “I’m glad it worked out for you. It was a long way to come for someone you didn’t know all that well.”

  “I didn’t mind.” And surprisingly, he meant it. “I liked those ginger cookies your sister offered us. That a family recipe?”

  She looked up at him. “My granny showed us how to make them. She’s gone now. Mary’s cookies are better than mine. I...I’m not the cook that she is. Matter of fact, I’d rather have someone cook for me.”

  “Can’t blame you there. I’m not much for cooking either...unless it’s fish fresh from the river.” For once, he wished to see the laughter—or even the anger—in her eyes that he’d witnessed over the past two days. Seeing her sad did something to him. Inside. He wanted to fix it the way he could fix a broken chair or table, but he didn’t know what to do.

  “Looks like your sister is getting on all right.”

  “Yes. I’m much relieved on that count. Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

  The heartfelt, grateful look she gave him had him swallowing hard. “Wouldn’t mind if you called me Jackson.”

  The wisp of a dimple appeared, and then was gone. “And you are welcome to call me Maggie.”

  He met her gaze. “Maggie.” Then he forced his focus back to the road. It was becoming entirely too easy to get lost in those shifting blue depths. “Suits you.”

  Miss Camp talked briefly about her tour of the ranch, but when Maggie didn’t show any interest, Anna soon fell quiet. It was completely different from the trip to the ranch. He should have been happy for the quiet.

  He wasn’t.

  The road skirted a bend of the river and they were about half an hour from the ranch when the back wheel dipped into a deep rut.

  “Oh! My!” Maggie said, suddenly emerging from her thoughts and grabbing his forearm to steady herself. “If you are able, do try to avoid bumps. Mary gave me a few things to take back that I stored in the boot. They won’t take kindly to sudden jolts.”

  “I’ll do what I can.” There was only so much he could realistically do to smooth out the ride. He removed his Stetson, wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, and then resettled his hat. “Day’s heating up some.”

  Miss Camp drew a handkerchief from her satchel and blotted her face. “May we stop by the river? The water looks so cool and inviting.” She threw him an encouraging smile.

  He stiffened. How had he gotten himself saddled with two of the brides when he didn’t want any? He’d leave answering Miss Camp up to Maggie, but he’d sure like to get back. He glanced at Maggie.

  “Not today,” she said. “I need to get back to town.”

  The buggy jostled over another rough spot in the road.

  Maggie gripped her hat. “Please be careful!”

  “Couldn’t avoid that one,” he mumbled.

  A slow hiss sounded. A cougar? He glanced at the floorboards to make sure his rifle was within reach.

  Maggie’s eyes widened and fixed on him. “Stop! I need to—”

  The hiss grew steadily louder—and no longer sounded like a big cat. It was from somewhere behind them.

  The buggy jostled over another rut.

  “You must stop! Now!”

  Bang!

  The horse jumped and pranced nervously.

  “Whoa, girl!” Jackson rose to his feet, adding leverage to his steady pull on the reins. They had better stop and see what made that sound.

  Bang! A second, much-louder noise ripped through the air.

  The horse reared, and then bolted.

  Jackson slammed back into his seat as the horse careened around the curve of the road. “Whoa!” He yanked back on the reins.

  Miss Camp screamed. The high-pitched sound only frightened the horse more, increasing its frenzied dash.

  “Whoa!” Jackson called out. He added a slow, steady pull on the reins. “Slow down there, Missy. Slow and easy.”

  The road curved further, following the river’s bend, but the horse didn’t, instead racing straight down the embankment and into the water before it finally stopped, halfway to the opposite side. Cold water flowed over the footboards and seeped into his boots. He grabbed his rifle. Wet powder would be worthless. The current shifted the buggy, carrying them sideways another five feet along the river.

  He had to get them turned around. Now.

  “You’ll have to hold these,” he said, shoving the rifle and the reins to Maggie. He jumped into the river—waist deep—and tried to ignore the rush of cold, wet water that immediately seeped through to his skin and robbed him of his breath. Holding on to the traces to steady himself, he made his way to the mare’s head. All the while, he spoke in a low voice to the frightened creature. He grasped the bridle and carefully, slowly, slogged ahead, turning her into the current.

  “I can help!” Maggie said, setting the rifle on the seat and holding out the reins to Anna.

  Anna didn’t look too sure that she wanted them.

  “Stay there!” he called out, fearful that he couldn’t watch out for her and the horse at the same time. “With that dress, you’ll only go under.”

  She hesitated. “But the buggy is too heavy with both Anna and me.”

  The mare’s ears flicked forward and back, listening to him and then Maggie. It was still nervous. Maggie might be right—the horse could move a lighter rig easier—but he wasn’t about to let her get into the water. “The current is too deep and too strong. I’ll take this slow and steady.”

  By the mutinous look on her face she wasn’t pleased with the way he commandeered the situation. Too bad. “I’m not moving this horse another step until you sit down. And just so you know...my toes are already numb.”

  She glared at him, but finally she sat down. “Very well. I’ll help from here.”

  Together they maneuvered the horse and buggy around and up the small embankment to dry, level land.

  Jackson took the reins from Maggie and wrapped them around the brake handle. Anna clung to the side of the buggy, still nervous that the horse would bolt again. Maggie wouldn’t look at him. As a matter of fact, she looked guilty. Those loud bangs had something to do with her.

  “What have you got in the boot?”

  “I told you to watch those bumps!”

  He couldn’t believe it. She was using the same tactic as when her dress tore. Fix the blame somewhere else instead of owning up to her part of it. “What have you got that’s so all-fired temperamental? What’s in the boot?”

  She peered at him, her jaw set stubbornly. “It’s none of your business.”

  He didn’t even try to contain his temper. “Not my business? Not my business when any one of us, not to mention the horse, could have
been badly hurt? Could have drowned?”

  Maggie lifted her chin. “Well...we weren’t hurt.”

  He started for the back of the carriage. “I’m not going anywhere until I know what’s back here.”

  “Wait! No!” She scrambled down from the buggy and rushed after him. “You’ll only make it—”

  He threw back the tarp covering and found four bottles nestled in a tin milking pail that was now full of river water. A soggy old work shirt braced them from rattling and moving. Two bottles, their corks missing, had foam dripping from their openings. He pulled one out. “‘M&M’s Finest Recipe Tonic,’” he read out loud. He sniffed the lip. The strong scent curled his nose hairs. He took a small sip, swished it around in his mouth, and then couldn’t spit it out fast enough. It tasted worse than it smelled. Tangy and tinny at the same time. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “What is this stuff?”

  “Medicine.”

  “Are you sick?”

  She glared at him and reached for the bottle. “Of course not! Why would I travel all the way to Kansas if I was sick? Give it back!”

  He held it just beyond her grasp. Then he took another sniff of the open bottle. Now that he took the time to analyze the smell, it had the distinct odor of alcohol. Strong alcohol. Still-fermenting alcohol. No wonder the combination of heat and jiggling had caused two bottles to explode. No doubt the others would have popped their corks eventually had they not been doused in the cool river.

  “Explain this.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  He couldn’t believe she argued with him! Slowly he tilted the bottle and poured what was left of the contents onto the ground.

  “What are you doing?” She tugged on his arm. “Stop!”

  “It’s no good.”

  “But I might be able to save some! Here. Give it to me!”

  “It’s full of river water.” He picked up the second bottle and poured its contents onto the ground also, then handed the empty bottle back to her.

  “I can do this all day.” He reached for a full one—one that still had a cork.