Lassoing A Mail-Order Bride Read online

  A bit hesitant, Elspeth leaned to kiss the angry cheek. “I’ll have a husband, but I’m of age anyway, Mama. I have access to the trust Papa left me. Let’s not part badly. I do love you. And Judy, I love you. You know it.”

  “Harrumph.” Two identical grunts.

  “And I picked Denver because…it isn’t as far as, well, the bridegrooms in Montana. Or the Northwest Territories.” She swallowed a sob.

  “Oh, pish tush.” Judith wailed against Elspeth’s shoulder. “At least let me ride to the station with you.”

  “No. I best do this on my own. But promise me. Someday, should I need you—you know what I mean—you’ll visit.”

  Judith’s tears wet through Elspeth’s sleeve. “You’ve got my word,” she whispered, voice breaking, but still too quiet for Mama to hear. “If there’s a bun in your oven, I’ll—I’ll be there when it hatches.”

  The mixed metaphor would have got Elspeth laughing if she hadn’t been so close to tears herself.

  Chapter Two

  Hez’s shoulders tugged against the tight black shirt. The only one close to his size at the mercantile, but he reckoned his new bride deserved to see him in something fine and fresh. With a quick check in Ooma’s old cheval mirror, he brushed his fingers through his hair and plunked his Stetson on his head. Winked, nodded and grinned at his reflection.

  He’d do.

  From her bed, his grandmother squinted at him, then her eyes opened right up. Amazing how her health had improved, upon him joining Miz Mamie’s Heart and Hands Club a few weeks ago. Ooma just might be up and about cooking supper, with him married by nightfall.

  He came over to kiss her cheek. Rosy now, with not one hint of death. “Ooma, we’ll be back sometime tonight.”

  His wedding night. A sudden panic gripped him. What if his bride had not been blessed with looks of any kind…

  Well, then he’d keep the room very dark. Who knew what fumbling might beset him, anyway. An inexperienced man likely made a terrible bridegroom. Nerves rattled.

  “I’ll be pleased, you a married man at last.” Ooma moaned. “But I had ached for a church wedding.”

  Hez shook his head. Despite her ill health, whether real or imaginary, church-going did remain Ooma’s primary occupation. She always managed to heal up quick on Sunday mornings. But he already knew from hitched-up pals, happy wife, happy life. No need to discompose his bride first thing.

  “Elspeth asked to wed the moment she arrived in town. She’s taking the spur from Denver, and I’m in a dash. The train just might be on time for once.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Ooma, we’ll get blessed in church some Sunday. I’m sure Elspeth will agree to that. Your church ladies can serve cakes and pies after.” His mouth watered. Prayed Elspeth composed pastries as delicious as the old biddies around town.

  “Maybe, Hezekiah, but—”

  “Judge Nusskracker is a biblical man, Ooma. He’ll toss in a prayer or two.” He reached the door post, but her voice pulled him back like a rope.

  “I’m just worried, grandson. This marriage happened so quick.”

  He glared at the old woman. She had really perked up since his betrothal had begun. “You wanted me to wed, Ooma. And quick.”

  Worry glazed her eyes now, though, and he regretted his sharp tone. “I did and I do, Hezekiah. But why not one of the belles around here?”

  “Belles? Biddies, you mean.” With a head shake, he reached for her hand, plump and warm. Not the scrawny chicken claw he’d expect of a bloodless old woman nearing her end. “A gossipy lot. Don’t ever want to be the subject of their banter. And greedy. Besides, not one of them appeals to me.”

  Ooma had a broken nail and it scratched him somewhat when she squeezed his hand. “You have no idea how this stranger might appeal. Or that she even will.”

  “I’ll take my chances. At least if we’re unhappy, the entire population of Colorado won’t know. Aw, it’ll all work out, Ooma.” He kissed her cheek. “Honest it will. I don’t have time or inclination to go a-courting far afield on my own.”

  Ooma rustled nervously under a mountain of covers, no matter it being early June and already very warm. “But you didn’t exchange love letters. Or truly get acquainted. What if she’s elderly? Desperate? Weak in mind or body? Worse yet, a shrew or a hen-pecker?”

  Hez gulped at the unpleasant possibilities, but he’d take his chances. “She’s twenty-one. And from her telegram, healthy, intelligent, and wise.”

  Ooma’s pursed her lips. “To be sure, young enough to breed many times. Hopefully her hips are good and wide. I don’t deny the necessity of you begetting an heir for Ladyface, and quick. With your half-cousin April marrying last month, we need a boy before she gets with child.”

  He did know. Which is why he’d joined Miz Mamie’ Hearts and Hands Club the very day the wedding announcement arrived. His Ladyface Ranch was at stake. The marriageable maids of East Slope, hell, he’d known them all since he could toddle about. And hence, his bachelorhood. For all the aforementioned reasons.

  Hez grumbled in his throat, knowing Ooma would hear.

  “What?” she asked, harsh and rude.

  He fiddled with his buttons. “You speak of April like she’s cut in two. We have the same granddaddy. I consider her my entire cousin no matter what.”

  “Still, you do need to hurry. So, I suppose this hasty bride is best.” Ooma settled against pillow ticking riddled with stains that didn’t wash out. He cringed a tad at the sight. “Your granddaddy was married to June for twelve entire years before he got April’s mother May in her. Your half-aunt. God rest June’s soul—” She crossed herself. “But Ezra got a girl out of me nine months after our vows.” She preened in triumph. “Your ma, Augusta. We got better breeding on our branch of the tree than June’s, which is why I am certain we’ll beat April.”

  “I know all this, Ooma.” Hez grunted. How he’d ended up with a normal name like Hezekiah Jedediah he didn’t quite know. The old grief brushed him, too. He’d never gotten to know his ma and pa. Raising him, Ooma had done the best she knew how. “Now, I’m in a dash.”

  Dang, the shirt was tight. Hez sighed. Granddad had decreed only a strong male would work his holdings and had composed a very detailed will. Hez and April were equal heirs now, but whoever had the first male child, well, that lad would be first in line. Truth was, Granddad loved all his womenfolk, but wanted a strong male line to keep up his hard work. Hezekiah needed to produce a boy soon, before April and her bridegroom did so themselves.

  His insurance to keep dibs on Ladyface. “Don’t forget the wedding ring.” Ooma held out her hand.

  Surprised, Hez took the silver band. “I thought you wanted to be buried with it on your finger.”

  She shuddered. “Sam Hill, no. It was June’s before me. I want to pass it on.” Then she froze like a statue, eyes turning to black marbles. “Hezekiah, what if—what if this bride of yours has some other man’s seed sprouting in her belly? What if that’s the reason for wedding up with you in such haste?”

  The possibility hadn’t struck Hez before, but he made light of it. “Well, then, maybe it’s a boy. And all our prayers answered.” He tossed her a smart two-fingered salute. “I best be off.”

  “Then God-speed, grandson. But be careful.”

  Outside in the fine spring sunshine, Hez hitched up the buggy his grandpa had supposedly bought to court June in, those many years ago. By now, it was old-fashioned, but Theodore, their old ranch foreman, kept it polished and trim. No bridegroom dared cart his woman home in Ooma’s ancient wagon. So far, the old lady had been too cheap to purchase a springboard.

  Hez groaned. Buying one was probably his first task as a husband. He could already hear a wife’s nags about needing an improved vehicle for her jaunts running errands in town.

  “Step up,” he said with a gentle tug of Fanatic’s reins. Despite his name, the bay quarter horse was a fine, beloved beast. They kicked up plenty of dust along the lon
g drive heading to the road to town, but Hez wasn’t worried about grime. He intended one last stop at the mercantile for flowers. While there, Miz Jean Krantz who ran the place would polish him up just fine.

  He’d already reckoned it wasn’t much of a wedding day, so he’d left early enough to arrange some kind of posy for Elspeth to hold onto in front of the judge.

  As he set off, he wondered two things. First, would Elspeth like East Slope? The Rockies? Colorado? Her telegram had been long, and from Omaha, but hadn’t said much important other than she did like riding horses. He reckoned she had money, else the wire would have been shorter. No matter. Granddaddy had left the family in a reasonably contented financial state.

  He relaxed against the leather bench of the buggy. It had only torn through in one spot and was quite a comfortable transport. Satisfaction covered him like sunshine. The Ladyface was quite a place. How could his bride not love the tidy house, the handsome horses filling the corrals? His acres, already flowing with wheat? And beeves, climbing up the green knolls, gnawing their cuds?

  All tucked cozy in an eastern notch sloping off Johnny’s Mountain.

  And above it all, the spires of the Rockies, still wearing snow and poking through the clouds. Better than any church steeple. How could she not fall under Colorado’s spell with aspen wearing new coats of green, raising their white branches to heaven itself?

  His breath hitched, and it had nothing to do with the rut he’d hit in the road. Second into his thoughts burst Ooma’s image of some other man’s seed…

  He took his hand from the reins and sucked a thumbnail. He’d not mind helping out a woman in trouble, but preferred not to know. So tonight, no matter Elspeth’s ugliness, they would consummate. Come hell or high water—or both.

  Already, he tingled a bit beneath his trousers, but pushed bedding his bride out of his mind. He rolled into town with things to do, first. Ah, East Slope. After the last wildfire burnt the place to a crisp, folks had started to rebuild with bricks and mortar. It was a darn pretty little township, if he did say so himself.

  After parking the rig outside the mercantile, he strode inside to be met with Sissy Krantz’s stink-eye from behind the counter. He grinned at her, but the way her mouth moved, he reckoned she was restraining herself from sticking out her tongue. Snickered, thinking of how she considered herself a grown-up woman. True, she was a tad younger, and she’d matured just fine, but they’d been chums in the schoolroom. And that’s all they’d ever be. He clearly recalled dyeing the end of her braid in the inkwell, an activity that got his shin unkindly kicked at recess.

  The same shenanigans his best pal Peter Pelton pulled on his sister Lou the same day, getting met with the same reward.

  Must be why all these years, Hez had considered Sissy his sister. Lou too.

  “Hey Sissy,” he said, trying to get her to grin.

  “It’s Cecilia, by the way. I suppose you want something for that bride-to-be of yours.” She stopped loading up a paper parcel with dried beans.

  Startled, Hez couldn’t think of a thing to say at first. Wasn’t Judge Nusskracker supposed to keep legal things private-like?

  “How’d you know?” he asked at last, gulping. He didn’t know why he felt so ill at ease. Well, of course he did. Keeping it private would prevent his pals from noisy shivaree and let him and his bride have their first night in peace.

  “Theodore mentioned it yesterday, ordering some oats.” Her lips turned old and prim.

  Theodore? Hez started, groaned. The old codger was a worse gossip than a woman.

  “A mail-order bride, Hezekiah? What are you thinking? With all the fine ladies in East Slope? Ladies who know you, appreciate your land?” Her eyes widened with questions, with hunger, then slanted in flirtation. “There’s still time.”

  “There’s still you, don’t you mean?” His hands cupped his chin as he leaned elbows on the counter. He kept his words kind. “Sissy. I consider all y’all like kinfolk. Sisters to my brother. Just the way my heart works. Me wedding Elspeth is a good decision, darlin’.”

  He tossed in the darlin’, casual like, hoping she’d feel better at his rejection, then laid a gold coin down. “I’ve a mind to buy her some flowers.”

  “Exactly when is the wedding?” Sissy’s eyes turned hard and narrow, now.

  Pulling Granddaddy’s timepiece from his pocket, Hez shrugged. “Not long after the spur train arrives. Forty-five minutes, I reckon.”

  Sissy wound her fingers like a ball of yarn. “Well, if you wanted a spray of fresh flowers, you should have ordered some yesterday. When you got that new shirt.” She sniffed. “Best I can do is a bunch of silk lilacs.”

  She left him for a while and dug through the shelf behind her. “Gertrude Stillwagon returned ’em day after Easter. Said she never wore ’em, but I promise you they were atop her bonnet at church. ’Course your bride wasn’t around here then. She won’t have seen it.” In his pocket she stuck a bunch of purple buds.

  “I—I—” Hez stumbled over what to say. A bunch of fake flowers already used didn’t seem a very noble effort on a bridegroom’s part. He handed the sprig back.

  From the darkness in the back of the store, a shadow formed into a woman and strode toward him. Miz Deborah Heisler. “Now, pick up your fallen face from the floor, Hezekiah,” she said. “Who’s gonna be witness at this nuptial of yours?”

  Miz Deb got to his side, big and comforting. And his heart melted. This kindly lady was trying to make ends meet. Clerked at the mercantile and washed up at the boardinghouse dining room. Her man had all but sawed off his hand at the lumber mill four months back. Recovery was taking a long time. Their twin boys did odd-jobs, too.

  Try as he might, even in light of the Heislers’ troubles, Hez couldn’t lift his own spirits. Felt about the same age as her kids. “Aw, shucks, Miz Heisler. I didn’t think past the flowers.”

  “Well, see here. I’m sure your granny couldn’t manage much celebration, in her weakened condition.” Miz Deb rolled her eyes. “Now, Hezekiah, you go wait upon your bride at the station. Tend to her after she arrives.”

  Like the ma she was, Miz Deb brushed off his dust head to toe. “Show her some husbandly affection,” she went on, “if you don’t mind my advisin’. I’ll get some roses from my garden, gussy ’em up with a ribbon. Me and Sissy will meet you at the judge’s chambers in an hour and be your witnesses. All righty?”

  “Thanks kindly, ma’am.” Hez nodded even as Sissy snorted. “And thanks, Cecilia.”

  Fast but careful, for he noticed some kids riding a boneshaker in the middle of the road, he drove the buggy to the judge’s chambers and parked it. Tried to be jaunty, striding to the station to wait on Elspeth. He had a ring, he had flowers coming, a judge, and witnesses. Just about all was done except…meeting the woman he had picked to spend his life with—for the very first time.

  The extent of his decision pushed down his shoulders, turned his boots to lumps of mud sticking to the street. Would Sissy or Lou or any of ’em have been better, after all? Aw, too late. The locomotive pulled in, chugging like its last breath. His throat ached; nerves boiled.

  For a quick second, he considered jumping on the train and riding it to Utah. The iron bench he sat on was harder than any boulder, colder than a long night in a line shack. What had he done?

  His heart thumped so hard it hurt and all but broke a rib when the woman departing the train came into eyeshot.

  A woman wrapped in a black cloak like a bat closing its wings. A woman with hair so white she could have been the snow queen in a fairy tale. And so old she could have mothered Methuselah.

  Good Lord, had the telegraph operator in Omaha meant 91, not 21?

  The conductor gently loaded her onto the platform, and Hez prayed for death.

  “Great granny? Great granny?”

  A herd of Hunsakers ran from behind their worn-out wagon, all nine of ’em grabbing the old lady close. Life returned to Hez’s bloodstream.

  But h
is heart stopped again when he heard the conductor call out his name.

  “Hezekiah Steller? This lady’s looking for you.”

  It was happening for real. Hez, heart stopped, plodded forward like he was that old woman’s man. Until the conductor pulled another female outside and unwrapped the long linen duster passengers wore to keep away the coal dust.

  Beneath the grimy coat stepped his bride. Like an angel bursting forth from a bank of clouds. Like a dream coming true. Her beauty astonished him; her tiny waist brought on sweet relief. And Hez realized his life would never be the same. Realized he just might never breathe normal again.

  “How do, ma’am.” He tried to speak, but no sound came forth.

  So lovely was she in a dress the pink color of a new baby that fit her, well, like skin. Womanly shoulders tied in a long lace stole. The conductor held out a big round box, and she dug a gigantic hat out of it. Covered in gobs of white lace and flowers, she set it over hair the same color as Ooma’s mahogany dining table.

  A dang pretty sight.

  Then she faced him square on, and his heart beat up his ribs worse than before.

  “Hello yourself, Mister Steller. I’m Elspeth Maroney. Pleased, I’m sure.” She looked at him once, quick, then dropped her lids over her pretty blue eyes. His excitement vanished like fog hitting heat from the sun. Apparently, he repelled her. She couldn’t even say his given name.

  So much for the new shirt.

  Or was she being modest? He’d never met a true lady from a big city before. Suddenly, he wondered if she’d find his lovely Ladyface a rag-taggle mess. No expert in women’s fashions, but he had never seen fine clothes like hers anywhere in the mercantile.

  “Yes, I’m Hezekiah Steller. And I’m pleased to meet you.” He had to swallow four times saying it, his throat suddenly as dry as August. Good Lord, he’d done good. “But I’d be more pleased should you call me Hez. I hope your travels went well.”

  Her quick smile warmed him through. Heated him deep down “Oh, goodness yes. I’ve watched the mountains grow bigger for a half-day now. And now…” She tilted back her head to show off her beautiful face to the sky. Bent it back so far he wondered if the big hat would fall off. “I can see them rising to heaven itself. Oh, you are a lucky man, Hezekiah.”