Though he wanted her to give up and go back where she came from, he might have pushed her a little far with the sourdough starter. It seemed like the perfect opportunity when he’d noticed it missing, but now he felt vindictive and small. She had come a thousand miles expecting a husband who would welcome her with open arms. Instead, he’d made her cry, and he didn’t think she was one who cried easily.
A pitiful little sniff nearly wrenched a groan from him. Unable to stand any more, Lucas put on his pants and crossed the room. She seemed unaware of him until he sat on the edge of her bunk. Her head came up with a jerk as the mattress dipped beneath his weight.
“L-Lucas.” She stared up at him in wide-eyed consternation.
“Miss...er...Brianna. I might have been a little hasty this afternoon—”
“Oh, no,” she broke in, “you were perfectly right.”
“I was?”
“Seth admitted he forged your name. You can’t be held accountable for something you didn’t actually sign.”
“That’s not what—”
“And it wouldn’t matter even if it really was your signature.” She scrambled away from him until the wall was at her back. “A legal contract doesn’t become binding until it’s put into effect.”
“It doesn’t?” Lucas wondered if she had any idea what she was talking about. He certainly didn’t.
“Don’t you see?” She clutched the blanket to her chest like a shield. “Even if it is legal, we can get the marriage annulled as long as we don’t...you know.”
“As long as.... ah, yes of course.” Suddenly Lucas understood what she thought he wanted, and it wasn’t the proposition he’d been about to offer her. “What exactly are you trying to tell me?”
“To be perfectly honest with you, Lucas, I’m not any more anxious to be married than you are. But it’s imperative that I stay here.”
“How so?”
“It’s difficult to explain,” she hedged. “But I think we can make a deal that will be mutually beneficial.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“If you’ll just let me stay, I’ll do the cooking, cleaning, laundry, and whatever else needs to be done.”
“Seems to me that’s the same agreement we had before.”
“No, I’ll stay out of your way. You’ll hardly know I’m around. All I’m asking is that you be patient with me when I make mistakes and...” she trailed off as though she didn’t know quite what to say.
“And?” he prompted.
“And no hanky-panky,” she said, meeting his gaze squarely.
“Can’t say I’ve ever heard it called that,” he said, “but I assume that means I’m supposed to ignore any lustful impulses you might inspire in me.”
“That’s right.”
“As a mail order bride, I thought you planned on being my wife in every way.”
“I changed my mind.”
For some reason, that irritated him almost as much as the way she avoided looking at his bare chest. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of taking you to my bed.”
She sighed with relief. “Thank you. I’ll make sure you don’t regret this.”
“I already do,” he muttered, rising to his feet and stomping back to his bunk. This time after he removed his pants, he took off his underwear as well. To hell with her maidenly sensibilities, he thought as he slipped into his bunk naked. It’s too damn hot to wear anything to bed. If she wants me to act like she’s not here, then she’ll just have to get used to my sleeping habits.
Lucas told himself he was glad she didn’t find him attractive, and he’d be glad when she finally admitted defeat and left. The difficult frontier life would send her hotfooting it back home quicker than a cat could lick its ear. Things were going exactly the way he wanted them to without him having to lift a finger.
So why did the word “bully” keep popping into his mind?
CHAPTER 7
(July 1860)
“Time to get up,” Lucas shook Brianna’s shoulder. “I set out everything for mush.”
Brianna opened one eye and peered up at him. “Are you crazy? It’s the middle of the night!”
“It’ll be full daylight soon. We’ll be back in for breakfast in about forty-five minutes.”
“Goody for you,” Brianna mumbled, turning her back to him and snuggling down under the covers. Idiot. There’s no way I’m getting up until my alarm clock goes off at six- thirty. Who does he think he is anyway?
Brianna slept peacefully for a full five minutes before her eyes suddenly popped open in dismay. Lucas Daniels! How could she have forgotten? With her heart racing, she threw back the blanket and jumped out of bed. The half-light of dawn filtered in through the open window. How long had she slept? Stupid, stupid, stupid! With the sourdough starter a thing of the past, she was in enough trouble already without making him any madder.
Scrambling into her clothes, Brianna cursed the many buttons up the front of her dress. It seemed to take forever to fasten them all with her fingers shaking in the chilly morning air. She glanced toward the fireplace. In order to fix breakfast, she’d need to light the fire, but a visit to the outhouse came before anything else.
Brianna hurried to the tiny shack out back. Indoor plumbing was another thing she’d never fully appreciated. As she hassled with the yards and yards of material in her skirt, she suddenly wondered if Anna’s underwear was split to the waistband for convenience. It would bear thinking about...when she had time, which was definitely not now.
On her way back to the cabin, Seth waved cheerfully from the corral where he and Lucas were feeding the horses. As Brianna returned his greeting, she tried to be glad Lucas was ignoring her again. He’d agreed to her terms last night, but he might reconsider in the light of day.
The fire rekindled easily, and Brianna was soon digging through the cupboard. Midway through the interminable night she’d realized there were other kinds of bread she could make. It was, at best, a temporary solution; Lucas couldn’t be put off with biscuits and cornbread forever. Still, it should buy her a little time.
With a crow of delight, she unearthed the baking powder. The biscuits were as good as done!
By the time she buried the Dutch oven under the coals some fifteen minutes later, Brianna was immensely pleased with herself. Just wait until Lucas sank his teeth into one of her biscuits. He’d forget all about the sourdough bread she was supposed to be baking. Brianna eyed the bag of cornmeal and the pan Lucas had set on the table. Great, she didn’t have the foggiest notion how to make the mush he wanted. Then again, he did say he was leaving everything out for her. She opened the bag and looked inside thoughtfully. Other than being somewhat coarser, it looked just like the cornmeal she was used to.
Maybe mush was like cooked cereal. From what she’d read of the stuff it must have a similar consistency. What the heck. It was worth a try. Too bad nobody thought to put the directions on the outside of the cornmeal bag the way they did hot cereal. By adding a little at a time to a pan of boiling water, she soon had a pot of something that looked like a cross between cooked cereal and grits.
Brianna had just finished dishing it up when she heard the men coming up the path. She hurriedly dug the Dutch oven out of the coals and sighed in relief. The biscuits were done to perfection.
“Morning, Brianna,” Seth said, coming through the door with his usual jaunty smile.
“Good morning, Seth.”
“Sumpthin’ smells mighty fine.” Bart Kelly was right behind him, just as repulsive sober as he’d been drunk. His words were pleasant, but the look in his eyes made Brianna distinctly uncomfortable.
Bart and Seth were instantly forgotten when she saw Lucas looking at the table in surprise. Ha, so much for his superior atti—
“Where’s the gravy?”
“Gravy?”
“How are we supposed to eat biscuits and mush without gravy?”
Brianna stared at the table in consternation. She hadn’t even thought about th
ere being no butter for the biscuits or milk for the cereal. She cleared her throat nervously, “I...uh... never thought of gravy. What do you usually make it from?”
“What do you...Good Lord, and you call yourself a cook?” Lucas didn’t even bother to hide his scorn.
“I’m sure if you told me—”
“I don’t have time to teach you how to cook.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, Lucas, just tell me what it’s made from. Gravy isn’t all that tough to make.”
“Salt pork,” Seth said promptly.
Brianna gave him a confused look. “I don’t know if we have any—”
Lucas rolled his eyes. “Bacon.”
“Oh right.” She pulled the slab out of the cupboard and gingerly unwrapped it. She hadn’t considered bacon for breakfast because there were no eggs to go with it. Now she saw it was mostly fat with very little of the pink lean she was used to. “You make gravy from the grease?”
“That’s the general idea.”
“It shouldn’t take me long to fix it then,” Brianna said, deciding to ignore his sarcasm. “Why don’t you sit down and have a cup of coffee while you wait?”
“I’m surprised you knew how to make that.” Lucas said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. It was obvious he fully expected her to serve them.
Brianna gritted her teeth and reminded herself how much depended on keeping Lucas happy. “I’ll get your coffee as soon as I slice the bacon,” she said sweetly.
Seth jumped to his feet. “I’ll cut it for you.” He pulled a wicked looking hunting knife out of the sheath at his waist and began carving the slab of salt pork into thick slices.
Brianna gratefully went to get the coffee. By the time she’d poured four cups, there was a pile of bacon on the table ready to fry. She threw it into a pan on the fire, and then wiped her hands on her apron thoroughly disgusted by the heavy fat. No wonder these people didn’t live much past fifty.
Watching the bacon fry took little effort, and her mind wandered to the sweat that was already starting to form on her brow. It was barely light and already the tiny cabin was stifling. Suddenly, her full attention focused on the conversation around the table.
“Talk around the fort was the Republicans done nominated that rail splitter from Illinois,” Bart was saying.
“Probably not a bad choice. Lincoln’s about the most conservative candidate the North has.” Lucas sighed. “But I don’t know if the South will accept him. We need a strong president that everybody wants if we’re going to hold this country together. I’m afraid he’s too anti-slavery.”
“Lincoln ain’t no abolitionist.”
“No, but he doesn’t think slavery should spread west either. The South will support Lincoln before Douglas, but they’ll probably come in pretty strong for Breckenridge.”
Brianna was fascinated. They were talking about Abraham Lincoln and Stephen Douglas, for heaven’s sake! For the first time in her life she wished she’d paid more attention in her history classes. “Who’s Breckenridge?”
All three men turned to look at her in surprise. “The Vice President,” Lucas said after a moment. “The Southern Democrats nominated him for president.”
“Oh, right.” Brianna winced. They must think she was pretty stupid. Of course, they no doubt thought all women were. “So, he supports slavery?”
Lucas nodded. “And states’ rights. He feels the Southern states should be able to secede if they want to.”
Brianna inhaled sharply. “The Civil War!”
“It’s a distinct possibility unless people realize how stupid it is.”
Seth straightened indignantly. “You think it’s stupid to fight for your principles?”
“There are very few things in this life worth dying for, Seth. Politics isn’t one of them.”
“But if the South is allowed to secede—”
“It will become a separate country, and in a few years will resume normal relations with its neighbors.” Lucas shrugged. “Unfortunate, but far better than the alternative.”
“Brother against brother,” Brianna murmured.
“Exactly.”
Seth was outraged. “You’re a secessionist.”
“No, and I’m not an abolitionist either. I came out here because I want no part of any of it. Think of it, Seth, what if you and Billy suddenly found yourselves on opposite sides in a battle? Would you be able to kill him?” Lucas asked.
“That couldn’t happen.”
“Are you so sure? Have you ever discussed it in those little notes you leave each other?”
“No.”
“Then you really don’t know how he feels. If it comes to civil war it won’t matter who wins. Both sides will be devastated, and the entire country torn apart.”
A long moment of silence filled the room until Lucas glanced over his shoulder at Brianna. “The bacon’s burning.”
“Oh!” Startled, Brianna turned back to her work. There was a great deal to think about as she dished up the bacon and made gravy out of the drippings. She knew Lucas Daniels had been a spy for the Union army during the Civil War. Yet, he was filled with total antipathy toward the whole idea. What could have happened to change his mind so much in such a short time? Had Anna influenced him somehow?
The conversation around the table turned to other things as the men dug into their meal. Brianna hadn’t eaten since breakfast the morning before and was famished. Even the thought of the bacon grease didn’t stop her from spooning gravy over her food. Maybe she’d jog down to the river later to work off the extra calories.
Lucas tried not to feel anything as he watched her wolf her food down, but it was impossible. The poor thing must be half starved. He couldn’t remember ever seeing a woman so pitifully thin.
He took a bite of his third biscuit. Doing without the amenities of civilization had never particularly bothered him before, but he sure wished he had some butter and jam this morning. The biscuits were not only a surprise, they were delicious. He hated to admit it, but Brianna was one heck of a cook, even if she didn’t always seem to know exactly what she was doing.
“Reckon I’d best be goin’ soon as breakfast is over,” Bart Kelly said around a mouthful of mush. “Don’t suppose you’d be willin’ to give me a hand with my team seein’ as how I’m all stove up.”
Lucas gave him a mocking glance. “Are you sure you’re strong enough to drive? Maybe you better stay a day or two longer.”
“No, no,” Bart said hastily. “I ain’t in that bad a shape. ‘Sides, they’ll be expectin’ me at Green River. Them fellas depend on ol’ Bart Kelly, they do.”
“I’m sure they do, especially if they have more whiskey around than they need,” Lucas murmured.
Bart either didn’t hear or chose to ignore him as he turned his full attention to Brianna. “Can you take a look at my wound before I leave, Miz Daniels? That bandage ain’t like nuthin’ I ever seen before.”
“Oh, right...uh... it’s something new they’re trying in the East. I suppose I should change it.” She glanced uncertainly at Lucas. “Do you have something I could use for a fresh bandage?”
“There’s a pile of clean rags in the cupboard.” Lucas looked up, with an expression of intense curiosity. “They improved the bandage? How?”
In more ways than I could possibly explain, she thought. “I wouldn’t necessarily say it was an improvement. It’s just different.”
“Maybe I’ll stick around and see what you patched him up with.”
Great, just what she needed. Bart Kelly might be fooled by her glib story, but Lucas certainly wouldn’t be. Adhesive tape and gauze would be impossible to explain away. She shrugged. “Oh, the usual stuff.”
“You stuffed his wound?” Lucas looked startled. “With what?”
Brianna winced inwardly. Another word that had changed meaning over the years. She had to be more careful. “Right, I stuffed it to stop the bleeding. That’s what’s different.”
“Oh.” The glint of in
terest faded from his eyes. “I think that’s what they call packing the wound.”
“Yes, that is what they called it! You’ve heard of it then?”
“It’s not exactly new.”
Brianna tried to look disappointed. “It was to me.”
She hid her relief when Lucas went back to eating, his curiosity apparently satisfied. When they finished, Brianna cleared the table and set the water on the fire for dishes. She wondered why Lucas didn’t leave as she busied herself around the cabin. There was no way she was going to let him see that bandage. “Did you want something else, Lucas?”
“I might have another cup of coffee.”
“There isn’t any left.”
“Too bad.” Silence fell, and the seconds ticked by with nerve-wracking slowness. Finally, when Brianna was ready to scream, Lucas stretched lazily and stood up. “Guess I’d better get to work. Have a good trip, Bart. I suppose we’ll see you in a couple of weeks?”
“I reckon so.”
Brianna gave a sigh of relief as he sauntered out the door. Now to get Bart tended to and on his way before Lucas changed his mind about letting her stay. “If you’ll lay down on that bunk over there and pull up your shirt, Mr. Kelly, this shouldn’t take long.”
She was careful to stand between Bart and her trunk so he couldn’t see Tom’s backpack. In spite of her dislike for the man, she didn’t want to take a chance on his wound getting infected. Using the hydrogen peroxide was out. If it foamed on the cut, even Bart would be suspicious. With the iodine clutched in her hand, she closed the trunk, grabbed some rags and turned back to her patient.
“You don’t have to stay here with Lucas, you know,” Bart said as she approached the bunk. “I’d be right happy to escort you on over to Fort Bridger.”
“Thank you, but I’m quite happy right here.”
A Window in Time Page 6