Mail-Order Brides of Oak Grove

by Lauri Robinson

  He wanted to move away but her gentle touch held him as captive as an iron grip. His skin tingling beneath her fingers. It was all too... He pulled away. “Friends? According to you...you are leaving in three weeks. How does that make us friends? And if that doesn’t happen, you are marrying. I don’t think your husband will appreciate us being too friendly.” He’d like to shake some sense into her. He’d like to...to...

  He was shocked to find himself grasping her shoulders with the strong urge not to shake her, but to kiss her. Immediately he let go and stepped back, his chest tight, his heart pounding. “You should have considered things before you signed that contract.”

  “I had my reasons,” she said, her brow furrowed with concern. “So did Mary.”

  At least he hadn’t frightened her.

  “We will figure it out. There is time yet.”

  “You don’t have the money.”

  “I’ll have it by then.”

  “How?”

  “I can’t say.”

  He turned away, angry with himself because he did care. She saw the world through rose-colored glasses. Sooner or later the real world would catch up with her and crush that part of her that was wild and free. He couldn’t stand the thought of that.

  “How about leaving me to my fishing?”

  With a tilt of her head and a mysterious smile, she moved away from the fire pit and began searching through the grasses. She came back with a cricket pinched between her fingers. “Use this on your hook.”

  He had used crickets before. To humor her, he baited the angle with her cricket and whipped the line back out into the river. She moved away from him, sat down on a limestone rock and concentrated on the point where the line disappeared into the water.

  Then she began to sing! Startled, he listened as her voice floated out over the river, sweet and clear. The current seemed to carry away her song and with it he drifted to another time, another place where mermaids and mermen protected sunken treasure and fish had the esteemed position of guards of the deep. The melancholy tune and the haunting words reached out and tethered his soul.

  The pole arched to the water’s surface.

  “There!” She broke off from her song.

  He gripped the rod tighter and let the line play out.

  Maggie ran up beside him and grasped his upper arm almost as if she could help him in some way. “You’ve got one! You’ve got one!” She jumped up and down, and then ran to the water’s edge. “Don’t let it get away! You are supper now, Mr. Fish!”

  Just then a trout leaped from the water, its wet scales shining silver and gray in the late afternoon sunlight before it fell back and slipped beneath the surface.

  “You’ve got it! Oh... What can I do? What can I do to help?”

  He felt a smile threaten. “Be still.”

  She couldn’t. She danced down to the water and then back to him. Then over to the fire pit to throw a few small dried grasses on the embers to encourage the fire not to go out.

  Slowly and carefully, he worked the crank, drawing in the line until the fish flopped up onto the bank, worn-out from its struggle.

  “You’ve got yourself a fine-looking trout! What did I say?” She grinned. “They love my singing!”

  He laughed out loud, caught himself, and then laughed again. When was the last time he’d heard that sound? “All right. That one’s yours. Help me catch another and we’ll cook them up.”

  She eyed him saucily, her blue eyes sparkling. “Cricket or worm?”

  “Cricket.”

  “Very good, sir.” She curtseyed.

  It wasn’t long before he caught another trout, cleaned and gutted the both of them and cooked them over the fire. He broke the largest fish apart with his knife to make sure it was cooked through, then he brought the frying pan over to the flat rock and set it between them.

  “I wasn’t expecting company. I only have the one fork,” he said, handing it to her.

  “Thank you.” Her dimple showed.

  Without letting go, he studied her, mesmerized by the two freckles on her nose and the gentle way a black curl blew across her cheek. With his other hand, he reached across the short distance and tucked it behind her ear.

  Her eyes grew large, and then uncertain. She pulled back slightly.

  His fingers tingled. It felt so natural to touch her. To him perhaps—not to her. He lowered his hand. “We should eat quickly, and then get you back to town. I’m sure you are missed.”

  “They think I’m strolling with Mr. O’Leary.”

  “A long stroll for the old codger.” He grinned. “Still, it’s time you started back.”

  “I suppose.” She took a small bite. “Heavenly!” Twisting up a morsel on her fork she held it out. “I’ll share.”

  He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving hers. She popped the fish into his mouth. It might as well have been potatoes as fish. He didn’t even taste it. His entire body was thrumming. This wasn’t exactly the way to be friends. “You go ahead,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll wait until you are done.”

  She finished, then handed the fork to him. Eating was the last thing on his mind. He couldn’t stop staring at her lips and wondering if they were really as soft and smooth as they looked. He loved it when her mouth curved up in a winsome smile.

  When they were both finished, she walked to the water’s edge and rinsed out the pan along with his fork. The sun was behind her, just above the horizon, and streaking orange and pink paint across the sky overhead.

  “I should go now,” she said. Still, she didn’t make a move to leave.

  He took her hands. “Your singing worked.”

  She smiled. “See? I really can catch fish.”

  Among other things. He felt like he was being reeled in and she didn’t even realize it.

  With her finger, she traced the white scar on the heel of his hand. “How did this come about?”

  At her touch, he found it difficult to answer, difficult to breathe. “Climbing a tree. I was ten. I got caught on a nail that held the line for drying laundry.”

  The setting sun turned her skin to gold. He reached for that tendril of dark hair that danced gently in the evening breeze. This time she didn’t flinch at his touch or back away when he tucked it behind her ear, but seemed to wait, suspended in the moment.

  It wouldn’t be right to kiss her when he couldn’t court her, but that didn’t seem to matter at the moment. He forked his fingers through her thick hair, and then touched her under her chin, raising her face to him. “You are a beauty, Maggie McCary.”

  Her eyes darkened. “Just what do you think you are doing?” Her voice came soft, breathy, washing over him.

  He moved closer. “I’m kissing you.”

  “Oh,” she said, her voice full of wonder. “Well then, perhaps you should be about it.”

  “Perhaps I should.”

  He bent down and gently touched his lips to hers. A tingling sensation thrummed between them. His heart raced. He slanted his mouth and pressed firmer against her. Her breath came in light even puffs against his cheek and mixed with the pounding of his heart. Warmth grew in the pit of his belly. Her lips were smooth and supple and sweet. He’d never be able to get the taste of her, the softness of her, out of his thoughts after this.

  Never.

  She parted her lips and slid her hand up his chest, her fingers curling around his neck to pull him closer. It would be much too easy to let this kiss go too far. Steeling himself, reluctantly, he pulled away.

  Her gaze was unfocused, stunned.

  He’d done that. He swallowed. Hard. “I better take you back now.”

  She didn’t speak, only nodded.

  They walked in silence back to town. Saturday evening, and a number of cowboys from nearby ra
nches were in town, already making use of their pay at the Whistle Stop. At least fourteen horses were tied in a line at the saloon’s hitching post. He recognized a few of the brands—the Lazy R, the Circle P.

  Three things he knew for sure when he said goodbye to her at the hotel door. One—Maggie McCary had never been kissed before—at least not more than a peck. Two—any idea about leaving town after he finished his brother’s church had come to a grinding halt. And three—he wasn’t about to let her go.

  Chapter Nine

  “Are you sure about this?” Maggie asked Sadie Tuesday morning at breakfast. “It’s only been a short while. You have time to consider other options.”

  “I truly think it will be a good match. Rollie needs the help. I like to be useful. And I do like his two boys.”

  The spoon dropped from Maggie’s hand back into her cup, splashing tea onto the table. “You call him Rollie now? Not Mr. Austin?” That didn’t bode well for Sadie considering other options.

  The fact that the same thing had happened between Jackson and her didn’t count. After all, Jackson wasn’t interested in marriage. Which made that kiss very confusing. That kiss had weakened her knees and stolen her breath. A kiss like that meant something, didn’t it? It was all she had thought about for the past three days. What would she say when she saw him again? It had to have been a mistake on both their parts. It just had to. And yet all she could think about was how she wanted to have him hold her in his strong arms and kiss her again.

  It was the uncontrollable wanting that scared her. She would have to set him straight.

  She was leaving just as soon as she got the money. They could be friends, but nothing more. Something inside shriveled up at the thought. She wanted to be more than friends with him.

  In the next breath, she wondered what Mary would think of that—think of her. Was she selfish for desiring both him and her freedom?

  Across the table, Sadie shrugged. “I have two and a half weeks before the end of the contract. I’ll be sure about Rollie by then.”

  Two and a half weeks! She certainly hoped Mary would hurry with the tonic. They would never get enough money if she didn’t start selling it right away. If her sister didn’t bring it soon, she would have to rent a buggy and go get it. She couldn’t ask Jackson again. She didn’t trust herself alone with him now. She was too confused about him.

  “Miss McCary?” Jess Rader approached, removing his worn hat. “Ah...could I...ah...have a word with you?”

  She had her interview over at the Gazette and stepping out with another suitor was not in the least appealing. “I’m afraid I have plans, Mr. Rader.”

  He shifted his weight. “Well. Your sister out at the Circle P sent a message.”

  She stood immediately. “A note? She didn’t come?”

  “Feedin’ all us men keeps her busier than a banty hen in...ah...never you mind. She’s busy. If you’ll take a stroll with me, I’ll tell you all about it.”

  If he truly did have word from Mary, she had to know. “Very well.”

  Outside on the boardwalk, he offered her his arm. When she hesitated to take it he flapped his arm. “You want to find out about your sister, right?”

  She grabbed onto him, disturbed that he goaded her.

  He grinned so large she thought he might just trip on it. Then he started walking, dragging her along. “That sister of yours sure can cook a decent meal, Miss McCary. All the cowpokes are speculating if you can cook as good.”

  “Nothing like Mary.”

  “Guess that ain’t no deal-breaker. A gal can always learn.”

  He led her down the boardwalk past the bank and barbershop, strutting like a rooster as he passed each window. They arrived at the far end of town and crossed to the other side of the street. “Sure wish we could spend the day getting to know each other.”

  “I can’t think about courting when I’m worried about my sister,” she said firmly. She wouldn’t be holding out false hope to anyone. She would be leaving and that was that. Besides, Mr. Rader couldn’t hold a candle when compared to Jackson Miller. No one in this dusty little town could. “What is it Mary had to say?”

  He patted her hand that still rested in the crook of his elbow, but he didn’t answer.

  They passed the mayor’s attorney building and then the Gazette office. Through the window, Maggie saw Abigail busy setting type. She glanced up, waved an ink-smudged hand, then went back to her work. The next storefront was Miller’s Cabinet Shop. Maggie peered through the glass. No sign of Jackson. Disappointment swept through her.

  Mr. Rader tightened his arm as he stepped down from the boardwalk and onto the dirt, bringing her with him. “It don’t take no genius to see that you got your mind set on other things, Miss McCary. Guess I’ll head down to the saloon so that the day ain’t a complete waste of time.”

  “What about my sister’s message?”

  “She had me bring a box of that bottled stuff for you. The boss don’t like her messing with it. It’s a load off her mind to have it off the ranch.”

  She had a feeling Jackson wouldn’t entirely approve of her selling it either, considering the way he’d acted when he discovered it.

  “I would have brought it sooner but I had to wait until the boss needed supplies.” He stopped in front of the hotel. “Figured it was the only way you’d take a stroll with me. Can’t blame a man for trying. Especially since I donated to the fund.”

  She smiled. “You know... Miss Camp would be delighted to step out with you. She enjoyed the tour you gave her of the ranch.”

  “Miss Camp?” He rubbed his chin.

  “You could call on her before heading back out to the ranch.”

  “Might do that. Just might do that. Although, you are a sight prettier.”

  Just then, the hotel’s front door opened and Jackson stepped out on the boardwalk. He carried his toolbox and was covered in a fine layer of sawdust, a sheen of sweat on his face. He stopped when he saw her and then looked from her to Mr. Rader, his mouth tightening at the corners. “Hello, Miss McCary.”

  She withdrew her hand from Mr. Rader’s arm. Her heart thudded in her chest. Oh, how she would like to talk to Jackson, walk with him. Explain that he mustn’t kiss her again while hoping secretly that maybe he would. What must he think of her walking with Mr. Rader after the kiss they had shared?

  Beside her, Mr. Rader shifted his weight. “Miller.”

  Jackson narrowed his gaze. “Rader. You can tell your boss I’ll have his cabinets ready in another week. I’ll bring them out to the ranch. Miss McCary, if you want a ride out to see your sister then, I could take you.” He nodded, and then headed across to his shop.

  She hoped he understood about Rader. This was business. She stared after him, wishing she knew what was going through his mind. “Mr. Rader? About that tonic?”

  “Your sister said to keep it out of the sun so I stored it in the hotel’s storm cellar. I told Austin about it so he wouldn’t throw it out.”

  “Thank you. You’ve thought of everything.”

  He touched the brim of his hat, and then sauntered down the boardwalk, whistling a tuneless melody.

  Maggie headed to the back of the hotel to locate the storm cellar. She had never been in a cellar with dirt walls and bits of roots sticking through. It was dark and musty and large enough for ten men to stand in, and much cooler than above ground. Shelving lined the walls and several jars of fruits and vegetables canned last year were still stored there. It was the perfect place to store the tonic.

  She found the box under a burlap sack. Twenty bottles nestled inside. She picked one up and examined it. M&M—their family’s familiar label. Mary had perfected the artistic script years ago, with the two Ms tilted slightly and intertwined. Holding the bottle made her feel closer to Mary—closer to Da.

&nb
sp; She withdrew three bottles. No time like the present to start selling. First stop would be Mrs. Taylor. Maggie had purposely waited to return for her dress so that she could offer the woman a sample of the tonic to ease the swollen and sore joints in her hands. Then Mr. Austin’s cook had complained of her neck bothering her. Both of those women might have suggestions for others who were ailing.

  She had to sell by word of mouth. It was the only way around the need for a permit. As long as she explained that to her customers, she didn’t think they would give her away. After all—the tonic would make them feel better.

  She covered the box and climbed back up the steep ladder steps, closed the heavy door atop the cellar and latched it. Perhaps Rebecca or Anna would take her place for the interview with Abigail. She had too much to do now that the tonic was ready.

  Mary had come through. She did her part in making and bottling the tonic. Now it was up to Maggie to finish even though her heart wasn’t in it. Mary was depending on her. The sooner she sold all the tonic, the sooner she and Mary could leave Oak Grove. It was the same litany she had told herself ever since arriving in town, yet more and more it rang false to what she really wanted, which was more time with Jackson.

  Chapter Ten

  Rollie Austin and Brett Blackwell each held the end of the massive coatrack that Jackson had just finished. All that was left was to secure it to the wall in the lobby entrance. “One. Two. Three,” Jackson said. Together the three hefted it into place.

  Immediately, Jackson screwed the back of the coat rack into place against the wall studs. “You can let go now.”

  He continued adding screws for support, wanting to get the job done that morning before he ran into Maggie. He was still sorting through the strong anger that had overtaken him when he had seen her with Rader. He had never considered himself the jealous type and he wasn’t all that sure that he liked the feeling. He was drawn to her and would have to get a handle on that.