Her sister was just afraid. Jo repeated that over and over to take the cruel sting from the rejection. “I’m leaving supplies for you. Some wood and some tools besides food stores. Extra blankets, and you left without any pans or dishes. We brought you everything we thought you’d need. Ma’s making you a dress. We’ll bring that up when it’s ready.”
“I’ll throw it in the fire if you bring it. I want nothing from the Wardens.”
Jo glanced over her shoulder at her beloved Dave. She wanted so much for him. For them.
“You’re my sister, and I love you, and, well, whatever orders you say right now, it won’t stop me from bringing more supplies. I’ll be back. I have to come back since you won’t come down. If you get sick, you’ll need me.”
Jo waited, wished, prayed, that Ursula would relent. But Ursula didn’t speak again. Before she burst into tears, Jo turned and walked away.
Jo and Dave rode away in grim silence. They hadn’t gotten far when the music began again. A mournful sound of grief and loss.
30
Dave had a cowhand Jo had heard called Parson Fred. It turned out he wasn’t using parson as some strange Western nickname. He really was a man of the cloth—what cloth Jo wasn’t sure; she knew very little about men, or cloth for that matter. But Dave said he was a man of the cloth, and whatever it meant, it turned out he could say some words that made Jo and Dave married.
They rode up to check on Ursula every day, fearful she’d start up with the fever. But so far she was fine. Cranky, but healthy enough.
She’d stoutly refused to come to the wedding. That hadn’t stopped Dave from building a door onto her room or chopping a winter’s supply of wood. Jo went hunting and dressed a deer and cut it up to dry for jerky. Ursula worked with her but refused to leave her lonely new house.
It took nearly two weeks for the wedding because they wanted Ilsa to get well.
As it was, Parson Fred performed the ceremony as soon as Ilsa was able to get out of bed. And that was literally true. She stood on wobbly legs at her bedside after a full week without a fever.
Mitch was still covered with remnants of dozens of tiny scabs. He was best man. Something else that made no sense to Jo. He was nothing of the sort. She thought he was fifth, probably. After Dave and Quill and Alberto and Jimmy Joe. Parson Fred was a decent sort, too. So maybe Mitch was sixth best man.
But Dave called him best man, and Jo didn’t bother to correct the mistake.
Ilsa was still very red and covered with blisters. She was the maid of honor—Dave spent considerable time trying to explain to Jo and Ilsa what maid of honor meant. It was hard because he admitted he wasn’t sure.
Ilsa had heard of maids and maidservants from the Bible. She thought it sounded like she was expected to do the cleaning or maybe the cooking, and she just wasn’t feeling up to that yet.
Jo thought Dave was saying Ilsa was more honorable than Jo and that seemed hurtful. Finally, Dave just said they needed an official witness to the wedding, and there was no cleaning, nor any judgment about anyone’s honor.
If that was true, why had he brought it up?
Quill was strong enough to ride over for the wedding. Jo was sorry the man kept getting moved around. If he could just get a nice long rest, he might stop treating his side so gently.
Then she found out he was helping build a house for his cowpokes and stopped feeling sorry for him.
Ma made Jo another dress. “What am I going to do with two dresses, Ma?”
“It’s good to have a spare so we can wash one of them while you wear the other.”
“We never gave much thought to washing leather clothes. This kind of dress is going to be a lot of trouble.” Jo frowned. It wasn’t as warm as her leather shirt and trousers, either. But it was very pretty.
“It’s a good color on you.” It was bright blue made of a heavy fabric Ma called wool. “And warm. You can wear the leggings you’re used to under it and the thick moccasins. We’ll get you some proper boots when we get to town next time.”
“Like the ones you’re wearing?” Jo didn’t say anything, but the boots didn’t look half as warm as her thick moccasins. And Ma’s feet clicked when she walked around. How was Jo supposed to sneak up on animals in them?
But all her worries about clothes flew out of her head when Ma made a cake the likes of which Jo had never imagined. The cake was white, and she stacked two circles of cake on top of each other. Ma called them layers. She spread fluffy white frosting between them and all over them. It was a thing of beauty and definitely the highlight of the wedding—although the part where she and Dave said “I do” was very nice.
Ma did all the sewing and baking with a huge smile on her face. She stopped cooking often enough to hug Jo and Dave and even Mitch.
She hugged Quill and Ilsa, too. Jo just loved her more every day. She’d’ve married Dave just to get into the same family as Ma.
After the wedding, Ma and Pa—Quill finally gave Jo permission to call him that—stayed at the little cabin. They tried to send Mitch away, but he chose to stay and sleep on the floor.
He seemed swamped with guilt over Ilsa getting sick and wanted to help care for her, which included him nagging her to be careful and eat and rest. He seemed to think all his cranky, bossy ways were indispensable, especially now that Dave and Jo were riding away.
The days were short, and Ma and Pa were exhausted. Everyone was but Mitch. He seemed to be at full strength. They ate an early supper in the last light of the day, and Dave’s parents went to bed early.
Dave and Jo left the cabin to the sound of Ilsa and Mitch bickering quietly while Ma and Pa snored loudly in the added-on room.
They were moving to the Nordegrens’ cabin for their wedding night, with plans to live there. Ilsa would join them when she was up to it.
Even with the arguing and snoring, Jo missed them all the minute they rode away.
Dave felt light-headed with relief when they rode away from that noisy cabin full of people.
“You know, one of the happiest days of my life was when Mitch came home. I’ve missed him every day he’s been gone. And now the new happiest day of my life is leaving him behind to ride off with my brand-spankin’-new wife.”
That was mostly because of the wife, but his brother was a caution, and it was hard getting used to his bossy ways.
Everyone’s sleep had been so disrupted for so long that he’d forgotten how loud his parents snored when they got into a really deep sleep.
As he rode, he fretted over whether he was such a loud sleeper.
Ma had told him plenty of times he didn’t have their snoring habit, but who could be sure of such a thing? He was worried Jo might be kept awake.
Shoving aside his concern for something he didn’t know how to fix, he just enjoyed the quiet as he rode beside his wife in lightly drifting snow. They’d traveled a good part of the way in silence when Dave’s ears finally calmed down enough to want to add talking.
Maybe he should offer to sleep in the barn if he snored. He didn’t want to sleep in the barn.
“Finally, we’re alone together, Jo.”
“Why do you think Ilsa and Mitch fuss at each other so? I don’t know him well, but Ilsa isn’t a person who argues much. I suspect as soon as she can, she’ll get away from your brother and stay away.”
“She needs a few more quiet days before she can move to our cabin.” Dave didn’t want company right away.
“Well, there will be no quiet days with Mitch staying there.”
“I suspect Ma will kick him out come morning no matter what he says. Maybe he and Pa will go back to the new cabin our cowhands built. From the sound of things, the men can use the help finishing the insides of the cabin and bunkhouse and making furniture.”
Dave added, “Pa’s still moving slow, but Mitch can go back to work. And Pa’s got some plans for the Circle Dash. He’s thinking of going down the mountain right now and taking it back.”
“But you said we
couldn’t go down, that even if the trail is passable, the horses would leave fresh tracks that anyone could follow straight up here.”
“He’s considering doing it anyway. He wants us to buy this land up here, and he wants to see if the US Marshals will be able to send men to the area to enforce the law.”
Jo didn’t comment on that. Instead, still thinking of her sisters, she said, “I certainly hope Mitch goes back to work. Ilsa needs peace.” Jo looked back like she was considering fetching her sister right now.
“Let’s trust Ma to take care of her.”
Jo nodded. Maybe because she trusted Ma and maybe—Dave hoped—because she wanted to be alone with him for a day or two.
They enjoyed their time together in the setting sun.
Riding into the tight canyon mouth that hid the Nordegrens’ cabin, Dave realized everyone had left. He knew the evening chores had been done; Parson Fred promised to do them on his way home. They had a few head of cattle, all tame as housecats. And chickens aplenty.
The hands were all down at the bunkhouse by the cabin they’d built for Ma and Pa.
Everyone who’d invaded the Nordegren home was gone—with Dave the big exception—and he wasn’t going anywhere. They put up the horses and went inside to find a fire burning, and the cabin warm and ready for the newly married couple.
They hung up their coats, and Dave pulled her into his arms.
“I thought we would never be alone.” He kissed her.
Jo’s arms wrapped around his neck like the ties that bind.
“Marrying you is a fine thing. We’ll make a good life together.”
“We have to try and save Ursula from her strange ways,” Jo said. “I reckon that’ll be a trial. She’s so stubborn. She’ll never give up that stone building atop Hope Mountain.”
“We’ll get her to come down, or at least we’ll do our best. Maybe Ma can help. Or maybe a winter alone up there will do her good.” Dave thought it would probably do Jo and Ilsa some good to be away from Ursula’s dire warnings.
“And she’s probably sleeping on the floor. I can build her a bedstead, though she’ll probably try and block me from bringing it in.”
“You didn’t put a lock on her door. That was wise of you. We’d never get in if you had. What if she’s—”
Dave cut off her worries with another kiss. A long one, a deep one.
When he raised his head, her eyes opened slowly, she blinked, and her arms slid around his neck.
Smiling, he said, “We’ll take care of her. She’ll be as fine as Ursula can ever be. And now, I don’t want to talk about your crazy sister anymore.”
He swept her up into his arms and paused. Mitch had taken Jo’s room when he was sick. Dave didn’t like that. He looked and saw the bedding all fresh, the blankets tidy, and decided Mitch wasn’t going to be allowed to ruin a room in this cabin. He carried her in and laid her on the bed.
“Is it bedtime then?” Jo propped herself up on her elbows.
Dave’s heart twisted with longing at the beautiful sight of her, all his. He sat down beside her. “I love you, Jo. I will be a good husband to you. I will honor and cherish you in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, whether we have plenty or are in want. And I will keep doing all that, for all the days of my life.”
“We took those vows only a short time ago.”
“Yes, but I want to say them to you now, here, while we are alone. What we said before Parson Fred and our family are the usual wedding vows, but I want you to know I mean every word of them.”
She sat up and reached for his lips with one finger. She rested it on his mouth. He felt the calluses on her fingers from using her bow and arrows with such skill and frequency.
“I meant them, too, but the vows seem to be overly about bad times. I want to hope we have no sickness, we have no want.”
He took her hand in his. “We’ll hope and pray for that, but those vows are there to remind us that if there are bad times, the marriage holds. It’s the foundation upon which we will build a life, and that foundation, with God as the cornerstone, can never be broken. I swear before God I will keep my vows.”
Nodding, Jo said, “It’s like the Bible story that says—”
Dave stiffened, afraid of what strange parable she’d make up this time.
“—there is no greater love than a man laying down his life for his friend. I want to promise that to you.” Jo touched Dave’s lips gently. “Think of that. I do lay down my life for you, Dave. Yes, I would die for you. I’d face all of life’s dangers for you. But also, I will spend my life doing my best to make our marriage joyful, faithful, and happy.”
With that he relaxed. Yes, she had some confused ideas about the two Bibles. But she surely did know the one. And she knew what faith was. What she didn’t know, she’d learn, just as he’d learn. Together they’d be better people.
She smiled. “I’ve had a lonely life, Dave. And I’ve been content with it, but now, adding you and your family, even that strange Mitch, have made me rich in the things that matter. And if we are ever in want, I’ll just go bring down a wild boar or some such. That’s my vow to you. And if you ever get sick, I will stay by your side, not run off in fear as Ursula did.”
“Now I’ve got something to tell you about married life that has nothing to do with our troublesome brother and sisters, nor arrows and sickness.”
Her eyes arched in surprise. “You do? What have we left out about our married life? Tell me.”
“How about I show you instead.” He lowered his head and kissed her.
The long winter night passed. The crackling fire burned low. The snow fluttered softly down outside. Though when they’d met, neither had been aiming for love, they found it, and now, together, they began a life on a mountain called Hope.
About the Author
Mary Connealy writes romantic comedies about cowboys. She’s the author of the KINCAID BRIDES, TROUBLE IN TEXAS, WILD AT HEART, and CIMARRON LEGACY series, as well as several other acclaimed series. Mary has been nominated for a Christy Award, was a finalist for a RITA Award, and is a two-time winner of the Carol Award. She lives on a ranch in eastern Nebraska with her very own romantic cowboy hero. They have four grown daughters—Joslyn, married to Matt; Wendy; Shelly, married to Aaron; and Katy, married to Max—and five precious grandchildren. Learn more about Mary and her books at:
maryconnealy.com
facebook.com/maryconnealy
seekerville.blogspot.com
petticoatsandpistols.com
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Table of Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Books by Mary Connealy
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Contents
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About the Author
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