Margaret Brownley, Robin Lee Hatcher, Mary Connealy, Debra Clopton

by A Bride for All Seasons

  Looking into those blazing eyes, Mathew was startled by the depth of emotion he saw dancing there—beautiful, unwavering eyes that held a mixture of ire—and hurt? A pang of regret hit Mathew and he found himself lost in that gaze and the emotions swirling just beneath the surface . . .

  And he totally and completely lost his train of thought.

  THE INSOLENT COWBOY’S WORDS STUNG, THOUGH HE surely had no idea how right he’d been. Her Bible had been Ellie’s first and last best friend in all of the world. If she clutched it to her heart, it was because, unlike all the other words spoken to her throughout her life, God’s words were the ones that had never hurt her.

  God’s words had taught her at a very early age to shield her heart, and doing so kept the cutting taunts of others from wounding her.

  A part of her was glad to see Mathew struggle after hearing her reprimand. It gave her hope that he wasn’t completely the ogre she’d feared he might be. But where could they go from here? This wouldn’t do. She had to find good in this.

  “I came here on good faith after reading your lovely worded ad,” she said at last, extending him a chance to redeem himself.

  His brows wrinkled. Eyes, deep and dark as a midnight sky, flared. “Whoa,” he said, as if halting a team of horses. “Did you say lovely words?”

  She nodded. They had been lovely.

  “I never said anything lovely. All I said was I was a widower looking for a practical woman to care for my baby. Bible believers need not apply.”

  The last words were enunciated as if Ellie were hard of hearing and might need to read his lips to understand them! She understood all right—clearly the man had problems. He was trying her patience no end . . . She crossed her arms tightly in front of her, fighting exasperation. She was about to do some enunciating of her own—and then his words sank in.

  “Wait,” she said, flinging her hand up. “That’s what your ad said? That’s all your ad said? And it said practical woman, not godly woman?”

  He scowled. “Taking that ad out in that overrated catalogue was supposed to fix my problems.” Raking his hand through his hair, he looked flustered, frustrated, and . . .

  Cute.

  Well, that was a positive. She could handle cute much more handily than tall, dark, and scowling. That fit more with what she envisioned when she’d packed her bags and stepped inside that stagecoach bound for her future.

  Problem was, she wasn’t what he’d envisioned either.

  “This is that Hitching Post fella’s fault,” Mathew muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, very aware that Miss Smith watched him. “He did something to my ad or mixed it up with someone else’s. Had to of. There was no misunderstanding my ad.”

  “If that’s what you wrote it was definitely clear.” Melvina bit her lip. “It was similar to what I read. Just different.”

  “Why did I let myself get talked into this?” he muttered. He had a good mind to put Melvina Eldora Smith right back on that stagecoach and send her on her frilly little way. And the skeptical way she was looking at him told him she was likely thinking the same exact thing.

  But what about Sophie? What was he going to do with her?

  A man didn’t like admitting he was desperate, but Mathew was as desperate as he could get. He slapped his hat on his thigh. He had a ranch to keep up with. His ranch hand Lem did all he could, but he was getting up in years, and lately Mathew wondered if Lem was up to the job. Some of his cattle had gone missing and he needed to hire more help. On top of that, he had an active two-year-old running poor old Lem’s wife, Maggie, ragged. Maggie had been a lifesaver after Beth died, but her arthritis had her so stove up she could barely get her joints to moving some days. She was struggling.

  And with no other close neighbors, he’d let her talk him into this mail-order bride catalogue idea.

  Trying to figure out his next move, he spun, staring hard at his wagon a few feet away. He didn’t want some woman coming in here who would have any inclination to tell him how good God was. He’d once believed that it was true. Not anymore.

  “Um, where is Sophie?” Melvina asked, cutting into his runaway thoughts.

  He almost broke his neck turning back around. “Sophie?”

  “Your child. Or did I misunderstand that too?”

  Her eyes held his, her delicate chin lifted. Any hurt that he’d glimpsed before had disappeared behind a cool, controlled surface. Like a rock dropping deep in a pond, after the ripple has gone, leaving no trace that it had been there on the still waters. Almost as if she’d put on a shield.

  “No, Sophie is real. She’s with a neighbor.”

  The mask fell away and a smile danced upon her lips as the cool eyes warmed like sunshine.

  Instant awareness shot straight through Mathew. His heart nearly hit him in the chin as it reacted to those sun-kissed eyes. What is going on?

  She tilted her head slightly, feathers waving. “If you can find your tongue,” she said with a lilt of humor in her voice, “maybe I should meet Sophie. Maybe she won’t instantly take such a dislike to me.”

  Ellie hustled after the disgruntled cowboy who was making his way toward a buckboard a few yards down the street. Her oversized petticoats were heavy against her legs as she tried to hurry. Aunt Millicent had insisted she wear them. She despised the cumbersome clothes! Why did society demand such things? This was the frontier, for goodness’ sake. She hoped she could soon be free from the proprieties that stifled her—that she could be free to be herself as she’d been the all too few times she’d escaped to old Mister Clute’s farm. Thoughts of the rough-edged rancher who’d been the one true bright spot of her life snuck up on Ellie, fortifying her resolve as Mathew tossed her traveling trunk onto the buckboard, then grabbed her valise and tossed it on board without so much as a word. The man was as prickly as a cactus!

  Ellie fastened her thoughts on seeing Sophie and determined that once she saw the sweet child then she’d decide what she was going to do. Aunt Millicent hadn’t said anything about her coming home if things didn’t work out. No, her aunt hadn’t been able to get her out of the house fast enough. So where did that leave Ellie?

  It leaves you with the option of having for once chosen your own destiny! Or your own doom. She was going to keep trusting God and she was not, not, not going to give up on Him with the first sign of trouble.

  “So is the neighbor far?” she asked, hurrying close behind Mathew as he headed toward the front of the buckboard. He turned suddenly and she plowed right into him. Staggering back, her toe caught on her skirt and she pitched sideways. In an instant Mathew’s hand wrapped around her arm, strong and steady. He held her upright.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, sounding for the first time gentle. His voice was rich and smooth when not irritated. Her skin tingled at his touch.

  “I’m . . .” Ellie lost her words, catching the flicker of warmth that flared in the depths of his deep molasses eyes. Ellie’s insides melted like butter and her breath locked in her throat. Mathew McConnell affected her in the most astonishing way. “I’m fine,” she managed. “I’m clumsy sometimes.”

  Nodding, he released her as quickly as he’d grabbed her. “It’s not far.”

  Fumbling with her skirt, Ellie reached for the seat rail. Mathew’s hand once again cupped her elbow. He assisted her as she maneuvered the step and climbed up to the bench seat of the buckboard.

  “Thank you,” she said, but he was already striding around the front of the horses.

  He climbed up beside her and took the reins. Her stomach fluttered at his nearness. “Is your ranch far?”

  “About three miles.”

  “Oh, that’s perfect. I lived in town in Fort Worth and always longed for the wide-open spaces,” she said, fighting to settle her nerves.

  Mathew just looked straight ahead.

  The man wasn’t high on talk. She fought the uneasy feeling that Mathew might send her packing. And much of that had to do with her Bible. How could a Bible m
ake that much of a difference in the way the man looked at women? She’d never imagined the Good Book that gave her so much peace could be the cause of her losing her chance at a new life.

  Surely God had not sent her here to be turned away.

  Mathew had called her “frilly.” He didn’t even know her. He had no idea the life she’d lived or the grit that filled her bloodstream. She would not have survived without that unshakable determination. No, he had judged her without knowing her at all. As had everyone else in her life—other than Mister Clute. It was maddening.

  “Does Sophie talk yet?” she asked, seeking to find common ground. He didn’t speak for a long, heavy moment. Ellie held fast to her positive attitude and plastered a pleasant smile to her face.

  “A few words,” he said at last. “And she excels at walking, which is not always good since she tends to try and run like a deer.”

  Relieved, Ellie chuckled at the image. “I love it. We are going to have a wonderful time.” She could hardly wait to see her . . . her baby girl.

  Her own child. Closing her eyes, Ellie savored the dream. Opening them, she caught Mathew staring at her, though he instantly looked away, scowling once more.

  Yes, as prickly as a cactus!

  “It is a beautiful day for a new start.” Ellie gave him a wide smile.

  Despite things not being as she’d dreamed, God was good and she refused to think anything else. She would not worry, she would not worry.

  She would not worry.

  MATHEW TRIED TO CONCENTRATE ON DRIVING. Melvina had been nothing but helpful, which he found irritating, and she seemed totally unconcerned with the fact that she was nothing like the woman he’d hoped to marry, chattering and grinning like they were on a Sunday afternoon drive.

  His gut twisted. Reminding him of happier times. Reminding him of Beth. Of the pain.

  Mathew hardened his heart to the smiling, hopeful beauty beside him. What was he going to do?

  He had to work. His daughter needed someone to care for her. Melvina had been the only response to his ad in months—and maybe that was only because of some mistake with his ad. The problem was he didn’t have time to wait for a practical wife. Besides, the inept proprietor of the catalogue could mess up again! That would be about his luck.

  “So when is the wedding?” Ellie asked, her big eyes as bright as the sunshine beating down on them.

  “The wedding?” he wheezed. “But you haven’t seen Sophie yet.”

  “I don’t have to see her to know what I want. Despite getting off on the wrong foot with you, I want to be Sophie’s mother,” she said, her eyes imploring. “I’ve been sitting here thinking and I know I’m not what you were expecting.”

  She’d been chattering away—how could that be thinking? He couldn’t even think with all her chattering.

  Placing her hand on his forearm, she set his pulse immediately into a gallop. “I fell in love with your daughter the moment I read about her.”

  The truthfulness of her desire rang in the earnestness of her voice.

  “I came to be the mother of your child. I’ve made a commitment to that. I promise that I can be what you are looking for. And I don’t know what you have against frills and Bibles, but all of my clothes don’t have ruffles, I promise. And I only brought this one hat.”

  What a relief—the thing was atrocious.

  “That aside,” she continued without pause, “I promise you, if you’ll give me a chance I will do everything in my power to be a good and loving wife and to be a loving mother to Sophie.”

  Her hand on his arm tightened and her eyes grew soft with longing—Mathew thought his heart was gonna bust out of his chest and beat the horses to Maggie and Lem’s place.

  Sophie—this was about his motherless child, he reminded himself, tearing his gaze from Melvina’s intriguing eyes.

  He struggled to focus on what was best for Sophie, fighting to ignore how Melvina’s touch was causing him all kinds of problems. He’d fought anything and everything that had come his way—the war, Indians, frontier conditions . . . bears, even outlaws. He’d survived it all. Surely he could survive a thumper.

  Melvina hadn’t backed down from the commitment she’d made to his child.

  Despite not wanting to, he admired her for it.

  Could he do no less for the commitment he’d made to her?

  Truth was, so far she hadn’t quoted scripture like he’d expected when he saw her clutching that worn Bible. She’d pulled her hand from his arm and now sat waiting for his answer.

  “I planned on you meeting Sophie and then if all was agreeable with you, we could swing by Reverend Jacobs’s after leaving Maggie’s and make it official.” Originally, he hadn’t wanted to waste any time getting the hitching done. He hadn’t wanted to give either of them time to change their minds. He needed this plan in action. He had cattle that needed tending, and a daughter who needed the same.

  But looking into those huge eyes, his stomach felt queasy. This suddenly seemed rushed. “. . . Or you can have a few days if you need it,” he added quickly when she didn’t say anything. “Maggie would be fine with you staying with them for a little while.”

  “No,” Melvina said, relief radiating in her voice. “I think your plan is perfect. Just perfect.”

  He frowned. Perfect.

  The woman was beautiful, no getting around that plain truth. So why had she answered an ad in a mail-order bride catalogue and traveled across the wilds of Texas to find a husband? If the Bible she was clutching was any indication, it could be that no man in the Fort Worth area wanted to be preached to any more than he did.

  Dread lowered over him. “Fine,” he grunted. “But let me make it clear once more before we set out: I specifically asked for no Bible thumpers.” He paused, letting his words have time to soak in before adding, “But Sophie needs a mother, so I will make an exception. However, I insist that you keep your beliefs to yourself. Is that clear?”

  She bit her full, delicate bottom lip as she studied him, her blue eyes darkening. His pulse picked up again as he looked at her lips. Meeting her gaze, he knew she’d caught him staring.

  She smiled sweetly and a dimple appeared, creasing her left cheek. Her eyes twinkled mischievously, and Mathew nearly fell off the wagon seat.

  “Are you always this grumpy and disagreeable, Mathew McConnell?” she asked in that lilting voice.

  Feeling as cantankerous as old Prudence, the mule that claimed his ranch as her own, he grunted again, unable to form words to answer her. He was still trying to get past that dimple and that smile. And those lips.

  Befuddled, Mathew looked straight ahead. “Yah!” He cracked the reins, inclining the horses to travel at a faster pace. Melvina chuckled. Her laughter was a soft tinkling sound in the hot breeze.

  She was determined, that was for sure. A good thing since determination was the one quality a woman needed to survive this frontier.

  That and the ability to laugh even when things were tough. He glanced at Melvina. Her chin was lifted into the wind, her eyes bright as she took in her surroundings, and a smile lingered on her lips. He knew Melvina had that ability too, to laugh in hard times. He could sense it in her. So she might do all right here in Texas after all.

  Right then and there he resolved he’d offer this woman his last name and his protection in exchange for care for his daughter. But not his love. Not his heart.

  “Land’s sakes, what a beauty!”

  The plump older woman startled Ellie by bursting from the small whitewashed house. She limped slightly, skirts flapping, as she rushed to meet them.

  “Maggie Sorenson,” Mathew said, “this is Miss Melvina Eldora Smith.”

  “Well, I certainly hope so.” The woman took Ellie’s hand tenderly, smiling as if she hadn’t seen another woman in months. “I didn’t figure you found another woman between here and the stagecoach stop, Mathew! It’s so good to meet you, Miss Smith.”

  Mathew began tending to the horses, giving Ell
ie a moment to relax. She might have teased him about being cantankerous, but it would have been to hide the shaky way she’d felt since his gaze had paused on her lips. Pushing the thoughts away, Ellie focused on Maggie. She liked the older woman instantly. “So good to meet you too, Mrs.—”

  “Maggie. Just plain Maggie.” Maggie harrumphed, waving her hand. “I ain’t one fer such uppity nonsense.”

  Maggie’s refreshing welcome touched Ellie’s heart, so unlike Aunt Millicent and the way she clung to formality like a shield. A renewed sense of freedom washed over Ellie and she smiled. “Then I’m Ellie. Just plain Ellie.”

  Mathew almost broke his neck jerking around to stare at her. “Ellie? I thought it was Melvina.”

  “I like it,” Maggie interrupted. “It suits ya. Ain’t that right, Mathew?”

  “I should have spoken up sooner,” Ellie said. “Aunt Millicent insisted I use Melvina. But I prefer Ellie.” Mathew turned back to his horses, fumbling with the leathers and then moving to the far side of the team. Maggie seemed to enjoy seeing him flustered. Smiling, Ellie realized she enjoyed it too.

  Mister Clute had been the one who’d shortened Eldora to Ellie. He said the plucky name fit her better. And it did. He’d been the only one to call her Ellie, though she’d taken it up when thinking of herself. Now she was beginning a new life and she knew she wanted to completely leave Melvina Eldora behind. As Ellie she could enjoy having the freedom to be herself. And that was a wonderful thought.

  SITTING ON THE FLOOR BESIDE THE KITCHEN TABLE, holding a rag doll and sucking her thumb, was a rosy-faced little girl with big blue eyes and a curly blond cap of hair that looked as soft as her puffy pink cheeks.

  “Oh!” Ellie froze in the doorway. Joy bloomed inside of her at the sight of the beautiful child.

  Tears filled her eyes. “Is this Sophie?”

  Maggie beamed. “You two were made for each other. Why, the child even looks like you.”