A Bride For Dalton

by Caroline Clemmons

  She gestured to the equipment she’d set on the porch. “How do I do this? Do I carry the hot water out here or pluck the feathers out first?”

  “You’ll need the hot water to pour on the feathers. Then you pull them out. You can grab several at a time.”

  Following his instructions, she prepared the two chickens for cooking. The smell of scalding feathers was the absolute worst odor she’d ever smelled. She fought throwing up all the time she was plucking. After dealing with that smell and the birds, she wasn’t sure she could eat them at supper.

  She had small downy feathers up her nose. She couldn’t grab them or her handkerchief to blow her nose because she had feathers on her hands and stuck to her clothes. She was sure she looked like a big chicken.

  When she’d finished dressing the two fowl, she put them in a large pan and set it in the cool space. In spite of Bert’s offer, she cleaned up the feathers and put them in the rubbish container. At last she could wash her hands and her face.

  She blew out a relieved sigh. One tiny feather floated out of her nose. She watched in dismay as it spiraled down.

  Bert reached for the rubbish container. “I’ll go empty this on the rubbish heap. Dalton always makes us a big hole we’ll cover up later. When that one’s full, he’ll move over and dig another one.”

  “Thank you, Bert. I couldn’t have managed without you.” Once he was out of sight, she braced her hand against the side of the house. Against her will, she threw up in the grass. How disgusting to be so weak she couldn’t stomach preparing the meat for supper.

  When he returned with the container, she faced him. “Please don’t think badly of me. I’m going up to lie down for a few minutes.”

  His eyes held concern. “You look a little peaked. I remember Dalton’s mother rested every day after lunch.”

  His mother rested every day after lunch? That meant she could have been taking naps to cope with this exertion and long hours? No one had bothered to tell her. How was she expected to know such things?

  Rebecca walked up the stairs and went to the master bedroom. She closed the door softly and collapsed on the bed. She hoped she was tough enough for ranch living.

  After indulging herself for an hour, she rose and went downstairs. She might as well cut up the chickens. She chose the best knife she owned and separated the parts. At least she knew how to cut and cook chicken.

  With several large spoons of lard heating in the biggest iron skillet, Rebecca set up her assembly line for Southern fried chicken. Egg and milk mixture beaten together, flour, and the salted and peppered chicken were ready. She started with the largest pieces that would require longer cooking time.

  When the grease was shimmering, she rolled a chicken breast in the flour. With it coated, she dipped it into the egg and milk mixture then rolled the piece in the flour again. She slipped each piece into the hot oil. After adjusting the flue to get the right amount of heat from the range, she put a lid on the skillet. Her fingers were thickly coated in the flour and milk mixture and she scrubbed them.

  By the time the men arrived, she had a large platter of golden chicken waiting on the warming shelf above the range. She quickly made the cream gravy and set the food on the table.

  Dalton swallowed a large bite of chicken breast. “Rebecca, this is the best fried chicken I’ve ever eaten.”

  Two Bits stuffed a bite of biscuits and gravy into his mouth and spoke around the food, “Sure is good. Never tasted better.”

  Rob frowned at Two Bits. “We don’t need to see your tonsils. Close your mouth when you’re eating.”

  George glared at the man. “Slow down, man. No one is going to snatch the food away from you.”

  Two Bits swallowed with a gulp. “If you don’t like the way I eat, you look the other way. This dinner’s too good to go slow.”

  He looked at Rebecca. “Miz Sterling, this sure is the best fried chicken I ever et.”

  “Thank you, Clyde. I couldn’t have managed without Bert’s help. I’d never plucked a chicken before today.”

  Bert looked up from concentrating on his food. “All I did was chopped the head off two chickens. Mrs. Sterling did the rest.” He took another drumstick from the platter.

  In spite of her belief she wouldn’t eat a bite tonight, the reception her meal received had encouraged her. She ate a wishbone as well as mashed potatoes covered in gravy, green beans, and a biscuit. The men thought she’d done a good job. Surviving another test of her frontier skills had given her confidence a boost.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next evening, a buggy pulled up as they were finishing supper.

  Dalton went to the window. “Lance and Teresa Courier have arrived. I’ll go to the door to welcome them.”

  The three cowhands stood.

  Rob said, “We’ll slip out the side door.”

  Rebecca looked from man to man. “There’s no need to rush off, men.” But, she hoped they would.

  George shook his head. “Naw, they came to see you and Dalton. Besides, company’s not our kind of thing.”

  Hastily, Rebecca took off her apron and smoothed a hand on her hair then walked into the parlor. “You’re so kind to call. Would you care for a dish of peach cobbler?”

  Teresa walked toward her. “Sounds wonderful. I’ll help you.”

  In the kitchen, Bert had started fresh coffee and was cleaning up the dishes.

  “Teresa Courier, do you know Bert Mickles? He’s our extended family. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t been so kind about showing me the way to do things here.”

  Under his tan Bert blushed and appeared ready to run for his room. “You’d have done fine without me. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Courier.”

  Thank goodness she’d made two cobblers. “I’m sure Dalton will be able to eat another serving. I have a sweet tooth so I can always eat more dessert. What about you, Bert?”

  “Naw, you’re cooking is so good I made a pig of myself with the meat and vegetables at supper. I’ll save mine for lunch tomorrow.”

  “At least you’ll come into the parlor and visit, won’t you?”

  He shook his head and turned to the sink. “You go on. I’m going on to bed soon as this last dish is clean. I ain’t as young as I used to be, you know.”

  She hugged his shoulders. “Whatever age you are, you’re perfect.”

  Rebecca dished up four bowls of cobbler. She almost apologized because there was no more whipped cream. Mama’s caution popped into her mind. Never apologize for not having something people didn’t expect anyway.

  She retrieved four fresh napkins and her silver spoons. With four china cups and saucers and the sugar and creamer, she set everything on a tray. Entertaining in her own home with the things she’d brought with her delighted her.

  She passed out the dessert and mugs of coffee. “I’m so pleased you came. Do you live nearby?”

  Lance laughed. “Only a half hour or so from you. That’s next door by Montana standards.”

  Teresa set her mug on the side table. “Close enough we can visit one another.”

  Dalton sent her a grin. “That will be nice. Rebecca is stuck here all day with only men rattling in and out. I’m sure she’d like to talk to a woman occasionally.”

  Dalton and Lance talked ranching while Rebecca and Teresa discussed fashions and cooking.

  Teresa took a bite of her cobbler. “I noticed your flowers look like recent additions. They’re very cheerful. I’ve planted a lot myself.”

  “Do you have any you can divide and share?”

  Teresa shook her head and dipped up the last bite of dessert. “Mine are still too new but there’s a lady in town that has a lot of flowers she shares. Her name is Mrs. Shannon. Her husband Sean even dug them for me.”

  “Perhaps I can meet her the next time we go into town. I transplanted wildflowers and don’t even know their names, except the evening primrose and one Dalton said was skunk flower.”

  Teresa wrinkled her nose and
laughed. “But isn’t it pretty? I have some, too. It’s so cheerful.”

  Rebecca was sorry when the couple rose to leave. “Thank you again for coming.”

  Teresa asked, “Why don’t you come to supper next week? How about Friday?”

  Rebecca looked at Dalton. He gave a slight nod. “We’d love to come then.”

  After they’d gone, Dalton helped her carry their dishes to the kitchen.

  He paused. “I never thought much about it, but having nice things when people dropped by made me proud. I’m sure glad you brought them with you and know how to use them. Lance and Teresa seemed to enjoy themselves, didn’t they?”

  “Aren’t they nice? I’m so pleased to learn they live nearby. Would I be able to find their house?” She put water to heat and poured him another cup of coffee while they waited.

  He grinned at her. “After we go there for dinner, I’m sure you will. It’s not too far for you to travel alone if you have your revolver with you. Wouldn’t hurt to have a rifle on the buggy floor.”

  She must have looked as alarmed as his statement made her.

  He held her upper arms gently. “Don’t mean to scare you, honey. There are all kinds of wildlife out here. You don’t want to encounter a bear or wildcat without a way to defend yourself.”

  She didn’t want to see one on any occasion. “I’ll learn to toughen up both physically and mentally, Dalton. I do love living here. I’ll admit I’ll enjoy us having another couple about our age as friends.”

  “Me, too.” He picked up the soap and shaved some into the dishpan before retrieving the water she’d started heating. “You dry and I’ll wash.”

  “No, I’m afraid your hand isn’t healed enough. I’ll wash.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll dry.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rebecca was lost in thought. Her husband was like two men. When the three cowhands were around or when she changed the house’s appearance with a flower bed, he was gruff and didn’t talk much. When he and she were alone—or even with Bert present-—he was kind and tender. Which was the real Dalton Sterling?

  Bert had gone to his room because his arthritis was bothering him. Dalton was at the bunkhouse talking to the three cowhands. She planned to sit in the parlor and mend clothes.

  She’d noticed at supper that Clyde’s shirt was missing a button. Even though she wasn’t fond of the three men, she might as well be civil to them and offer to do their mending. After all, they were part of the ranch. Since Dalton was already there, she decided to dart out there and make her offer.

  After grabbing a shawl, she strode purposefully toward the bunkhouse. Bright moonlight lit her way. The bunkhouse door was ajar and she heard conversation.

  George’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Got word the stage with the payload will come by this ranch in two days.”

  She gasped then covered her mouth with her hand.

  Clyde answered, “We know that. We already worked out our plan to hit it where the road turns near that bunch of rocks. They have to slow there.”

  Why wasn’t Dalton talking? Why didn’t he stop them?

  Rob’s voice was soft, “Don’t mess us up, Dalton. We been planning this for a while and we aim to follow through.”

  Her husband answered, “Why do you think I’m here now? This needs to go smooth as silk. I don’t want to go to jail. Remember, I insist there be no killing. I don’t intend to get caught, but if we are I sure don’t want to be hanged.”

  She had to put her hand on the wall to keep from falling. Dalton a criminal? She couldn’t believe what she’d heard.

  George said, “We can’t promise that—all I can guarantee is we won’t shoot first. If the guard or a passenger opens fire, I don’t aim to sit like a pigeon and get shot. This is my last job and I plan to take my share and retire somewhere that don’t get snow.”

  Rebecca couldn’t take any more. She whirled and ran to the house. When she reached the kitchen, her legs would take her no further and she collapsed onto a kitchen chair.

  What should she do? What would happen if they realized she’d heard their talk? She was afraid to find out.

  She had money now so she could leave. Then the banker’s warning hit her. What if Dalton decided to steal her inheritance? No, why would he have been so reluctant to have his name on her account if he planned to steal from her?

  Maybe Bert would drive her to town. She doubted he would if he thought Dalton would be against the plan. She didn’t believe her husband would approve of her leaving him.

  Dancer could take her and a carpetbag. Leaving would mean sacrificing all the heirlooms from her mother and grandmothers. She wanted to curl into a ball and cry like a baby.

  But, she wasn’t a baby and a grown woman had to stiffen her backbone and deal with problems.

  Dalton was so tender and kind. He was the perfect husband—except for being a robber. How could he be both? This wasn’t right or fair. She wanted an explanation.

  She rose and gathered her mending and climbed the stairs. If she pretended to be asleep when Dalton came in, she would have time to think before she spoke with him. Her plan failed when he entered the bedroom while she was readying for bed.

  He gathered her into an embrace and held her tight against him with his face against her hair. “Ah, Rebecca, you can’t know how much I need to hold you right now. Don’t ever leave me, honey. I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you came and burrowed into my heart.”

  Burrowed into his heart? Those words would have meant the world to her if she’d heard them an hour ago. Now she couldn’t think straight, especially with his arms around her.

  Since she didn’t know what to say she kept silent. Rather than pushing him away as she should she wrapped her arms around him. Being in his arms like this was wonderful, if only she hadn’t overheard that rotten conversation.

  “You have to promise me that if something happens to me, you’ll stay here and keep Bert on and find a nice man to marry and help you.”

  “Wh-What could happen to you, Dalton? You’re a young man, not someone who’s elderly or infirm. You’re not ill, are you?” She wanted to beg him to tell her the truth.

  “I’m healthy. Ranching is a dangerous business. I could die any day, same as in any other business. Please say you’ll stay with me now and not desert me no matter what happens.”

  She leaned back to look into his eyes. “You’re scaring me. What do you think is going to happen?”

  He pulled her head back to his chest. “Just promise me, all right? Is that too much to ask after our vows?”

  She sighed, wishing he hadn’t reminded her of her vows. “Of course not. I promised until death parts us and I meant it.”

  She had, but that was before she knew he was a criminal. Did that make the vows any less binding? She doubted it did.

  “Thank you, honey. You’re the best thing that ever happened in my life.”

  With another sigh, she pulled away. “We’d better get in bed. You work hard and need your rest.”

  The next day after the men had left, indecision locked her mind. She moved through her chores as if she were outside her body watching someone else go through her motions.

  Bert put his hands on his hips. “You haven’t said two words today. You put out with me for some reason?”

  She blinked away the cobwebs. “How could anyone be upset with you, Bert? I count you as a dear friend as well as extended family. You’ve helped me so much.”

  Embarrassment tinged his cheeks. “Now don’t go on like that. I just done what needed to be done. You’ve worked right steady to be a good ranch wife. But, you sure ain’t acting like you usually do.”

  “Guess we all have an off day now and then. I’ll try to do better.”

  He huffed and stabbed his forefinger at her. “Now you know that’s not what I meant. If something’s bothering you, say so.”

  She shook her head slowly, knowing there was nothing she could say to him. “There’s
nothing you can do for me, Bert. I’m just thinking through some things.”

  He mumbled something about female troubles as he moved away. Let him think that if he wanted to. Better he be misinformed than know what really bothered her.

  But, Bert and Dalton were close. Bert had to know what her husband was planning. Did he approve? Was he a part of the robbery scheme?

  She looked around the room. Had stolen funds paid for the things here? Oh, she hoped not. She thought most of the furnishings were from when his parents were alive.

  Mixing up bread dough later kept her hands busy. Kneading it let her vent her frustration. She set it to rise while she cleaned downstairs. Later, she divided it and set it to double.

  Her mind was made up and she’d leave soon after the men did tomorrow. There was bound to be a place in town where she could live. She had enough money to last her the rest of her life if she was frugal—if Dalton let her keep it.

  Dalton would probably insist she come back to the ranch. Where should she go? She dithered back and forth and almost overcooked loaves of light bread. She turned them out onto a cutting board and covered them with a cup towel. Mmm, she inhaled the aroma of baking bread that filled the house.

  Tomorrow was the day the men had discussed robbing the stage. She prayed Dalton would be unharmed and that no gunfire was exchanged. Although she knew it was wrong, she prayed Dalton would not be arrested.

  Perhaps she could persuade him not to go with the men. He didn’t need the money from the Wells Fargo box on the stage. He could stay here and let the other three do whatever they wished. Desperate, she decided to confront him tonight after Bert had gone to bed and she and Dalton were alone.

  She hated confrontations but this was too important to keep peace. Throughout the day she mentally rehearsed what she’d say to her husband. Over and over she listed possibilities.

  He could lose his life.

  He could lose his freedom.

  What would Uncle Fred think?

  He was a married man now and said he wanted children.

  How could he plan a family when he’d be branded a criminal?