Seconds later Ellie sucked in a deep breath and sat up with his help. She glared at the mule sitting calmly beside her on its fat haunches. “What—is that animal doing?” she asked in a shrill voice he’d never heard from her before.
“Protecting Sophie,” he said sheepishly.
“Protecting her! She almost killed us.”
Glaring at him, she clamped her lips together and stood up. He tried to help but she ignored his hand, gave the unconcerned little mule one last glare, then stomped stiffly toward the house.
Should he follow her? She was one mad lady—and she had a right to be.
Carrying Sophie who was chanting, “Pru-dy, Pru-dy,” all the way, he stalked after her. He caught up to her at the porch.
“I should have warned you about old Prudence. That cantankerous donkey thinks she owns the place. And she watches out for Sophie. She’s been out with a herd protecting the baby calves from coyotes, but we moved the herd closer this morning and she must have wanted to see Sophie.” Now that the danger was over, his mind went straight back to Ellie running from the funny old gray bag of bones. He couldn’t help himself—he chuckled.
Red as a ripe plum, Ellie gasped. “You are laughing at me!”
He tried not to laugh again. Fought hard not to, a hard thing to do when suddenly all he could think about was how cute the woman looked when she was furious. “Now, Ellie . . . calm down. You do have to admit that it was funny.”
“I do not!” She crossed her arms.
He hiked a brow and grinned.
“Fun-ny,” Sophie repeated and giggled.
His chest hurt with the laughter he was holding back. He was a little worried about her reaction at his finding this so blamed funny, but it just was. And she was cute as a baby porcupine when she was mad.
“Ellie. You know it was funny.”
“Fun-ny, fun-ny,” Sophie said proudly and clapped.
Ellie’s lip twitched, causing his smile to widen.
“You know it’s true. You would have laughed if it had been me in your shoes. You can’t hold this against me too.”
She bit her lips, both sides twitched, and suddenly she laughed, dipped her head, and hooted.
Hearing her full-bodied laugh pulled the first full-blown laugh from him that he’d had in two years. It hit him as he smiled at her. It felt good watching her laugh so hard tears rolled from the corners of her sparkling eyes. She rubbed them away with her fingers, then pressed them to her cheeks.
“You are mean, Mathew McConnell. And I think you have a really terrible sense of humor.
“And you’ve got Sophie laughing at me too.”
“Me laughing too,” Sophie quipped.
Ellie’s smile as she scolded him reached inside of Mathew, warming the dark corners of his heart.
He stopped laughing and they stared at each other as if they couldn’t look away.
Mathew’s heart was doing crazy things in his chest. Like a crazy fool, he stepped closer to Ellie, tempted to reach his hand out and trace the line of her jaw. Instead, he clutched Sophie tightly.
“I have to go,” he blurted and pushed Sophie into Ellie’s arms. Snagging the leathers of his horse as he passed, he gave himself a good talking-to all the way to the barn and into the safety of the shadows inside. What have I been doing?
Wondering what it would feel like to pull her into my arms and pretend that this was a real marriage.
“You are downright loco,” he growled, his heart thumping and his blood rushing through his ears like the rapids of the Guadalupe River.
“I’M A FOOL. I’M A FOOL—YES, I AM. YES, I AM.” ELLIE sang her frustrations in a sweet singsong voice as she held Sophie in the air and looked up at the grinning, drooling sweetheart. “How could I be such a fool, Sophie sweetie? How?”
“Foo-wel,” Sophie repeated, drooling more as she stared down happily at Ellie. “I mam a foo-wel.”
Despite her own angst, Ellie laughed and hugged her baby to her heart. No, she wasn’t a fool for having come three hundred miles through dangerous territory to marry a man who just needed someone to watch his child. Not when that child was this angel.
Walking to the big wooden rocker sitting by the window, Ellie tucked a chattering Sophie in the crook of her arm and began to sing a lullaby. At least Sophie was everything she’d dreamed of, she thought as Sophie’s bright blue eyes began to droop with the motion of the rocker. Soon her face went slack with sweet release into dream time. Ellie could watch Sophie sleep all day.
Sighing, Ellie brushed a blond curl from her forehead and then she stared out the window. The mule watched her from a few feet away. Ellie was not feeling very forgiving at the moment and did not look kindly on the hairy beast!
She had more interesting things on her mind. Mathew had begun calling her Ellie and he’d almost kissed her out there, before he stormed away. She was certain of it. Ellie’s heart fluttered as she relived the moment when he leaned forward . . .
For a girl who’d never been close to having someone look at her that way, it was almost more than she could bear. More than she could hope.
And then he’d spun and strode away as if he couldn’t get away fast enough.
“Please, Lord, help me. I am so confused,” she whispered. Bowing her head, Ellie did what she’d learned to do growing up. She prayed. She thanked Him for His blessings, for Sophie and for Mathew and being here at all. She told God her fears about her situation and her desires and at last she asked God to give her patience that she would let Him show her the way.
Lifting her gaze, she stared out the window once more.
Patience was not easy for her, in this situation especially. She wanted things to move faster than they were. But she had no idea how to do that. She’d tried everything she could think of—making small talk, not talking at all, trying to simply show him what a wonderful wife she could be if he let her. Her nerves were shot.
She wanted that kiss from her husband.
She’d wanted it with all of her heart.
There, she had admitted it. Admitted that she longed to feel his arms around her and his lips on hers.
Aunt Millicent would be appalled.
But he was her husband. And Aunt Millicent’s opinion of her no longer mattered, she reminded herself.
Mathew strode from the barn, drawing Ellie’s attention.
Carrying a saddle, he looked as though he could fight the world itself.
He tramped across the yard toward the corral that sat a little ways away from the house. Several horses were kept there and he’d told her early on that they were horses he was going to break and for her to keep Sophie away from them.
He dropped the saddle in the dirt. Entered the pen and within seconds had a particularly irritated black horse roped. Looking wildly angry, the colt snorted and pawed the earth. Mathew gave it some slack as it yanked its head violently. Ellie’s breath caught when it reared up, standing on two legs, its front hooves clawing dangerously at Mathew!
“Today is your day,” Mathew said to the two-year-old colt who had a very bad attitude. Mathew was brewing to release some frustration. From the looks of it, Ruthless was too.
He’d worked with the colt for a few days and he was still skittish and untrusting. Straining against the rope, Ruthless pawed the earth and reared as Mathew leaned back, his arms straining, dirt flying as they fought each other. Mathew wound the rope around the breaking pole and snugged the angry horse so close to it that the animal couldn’t so much as lift his head. Still the stubborn horse kicked up dirt and dug at the ground with his hooves. Breathing hard from the fight, Mathew got the bit and bridle on him—no easy task. Then he headed out of the corral for the saddle. He was already damp from exertion, and the frustration he felt from his situation with Ellie hadn’t diminished at all . . .
Mathew welcomed the challenge.
Ruthless offered an avenue for him to vent—
“What are you doing?”
Mathew whirled around
to find Ellie, looking wild-eyed herself.
“What are you doing out here?” he snapped. He needed to get rid of his frustration, not pile on more.
She pointed at the colt. “Are you about to ride him?”
“That’s the plan,” he said, not happy to see her or her attitude. “If Ruthless is willing.”
“Willing to kill someone,” Ellie scoffed.
Her lack of confidence stung. “No one’s dying today, Ellie.”
“That is not funny. It looks like he needs more time. More work before you haul off and climb on his back.”
“Ellie, what do you know about ranching? Nothing, that’s what. You tend to woman’s work and leave man’s work to me.”
“But—”
“No, Ellie, get on back to the house and leave me be,” he snapped. At this point he was so frustrated he was past caring.
Her eyes shadowed. Beautiful eyes that had him losing his train of thought all over again even in his anger.
“That isn’t fair. Mathew, I can help. I haven’t been given the chance to show you what I can do.”
This land was not easy on a woman. His mother and then Beth were proof, and also Maggie and the way she was breaking down with her joints and ailments. “No.” The word wrenched from him. “I hired you—I mean I married you to look after Sophie.”
Ellie went very still and the color drained from her face.
Mathew knew he’d made a big mistake the moment he’d said “hired.” If he’d been too dumb to realize his blunder, the grim look spreading across Ellie’s face would have pointed it out to him straightaway.
“Hired me! Hired me. Of all the . . .” She faltered on the last, huffing so hard he was sure he saw smoke come out of her ears. She spun and stalked back the way she’d come.
They sure did do some stalking away from each other, he thought as her skirts flounced and her hips swayed. She muttered halfway across the yard. He couldn’t understand what she was saying, but it was obvious that it wasn’t good. She was pert near to the porch when she swung back around and stalked straight back to him.
She didn’t stop until she was toe-to-toe with him, so close she had to tilt her head back to glare up at him.
“You might look at me as just a hired hand but, Mathew McConnell, I have news for you—you married me! That’s right. We are lawfully wedded in the sight of man and God, and I’m tired of tiptoeing around here not knowing where I fit in. I’ve done that all my life. I came west to get rid of that feeling. I am your wife. An-and I’m here to tell you that I want children. I want brothers and sisters for Sophie. You may not want me like a husband should want a wife—or want this marriage to be real. But . . .” Her voice trailed off. She looked at the ground and then back up at him. “I do. A real home and family is all I’ve ever dreamed of. Fair warning to you,” she said, her hand on her hip. “I did not come here to be your hired help. Nor to be told what I can and cannot do.”
And then she spun away and stormed back the way she’d come.
Mathew watched her go. The woman was beauty and fire and sass all in one. He’d had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her to silence. Instead, grabbing the saddle at his feet, he headed into the corral.
It was time to ride—he just hoped Ruthless was still ready for a fight, because he sure was.
ELLIE STALKED TO THE HOUSE. “HIRED ME?” EVIDENTLY taking a mail-order bride was Mathew’s way of ensuring he kept the hired help on forever. Wasn’t this just the way? Here she’d just told the Lord she’d wait on His lead. That she’d be patient. And just look at this fine mess.
Well, she’d gone and done it now. She’d hauled off and blasted Mathew with both barrels.
But she couldn’t take back her words. They were true. In her heart of hearts she desired more children. Loving on Sophie had only made her want them more. Mathew—the man could irritate her so. And hurt her too.
Why was it that his words could hurt her like no one else’s could?
Ellie stepped onto the porch and went through the door, heading toward her room where Sophie slept. Mathew McConnell thought he knew her—had judged from day one by the dress she’d worn and the Bible she’d held close to her heart. “Ha,” she muttered softly, entering the bedroom. Sophie was sound asleep. “Your daddy doesn’t know me at all,” Ellie whispered, then headed to her trunk at the foot of the bed.
She was tired of hiding behind the stifling airs and proprietary manners that Aunt Millicent had always insisted on, being told all her life what she could and could not do!
It was time to be true to herself.
Lifting the lid of her traveling trunk, Ellie dug to the bottom through all the fluffy dresses Aunt Millicent loved. They went flying in all directions as Ellie reached the bottom of the trunk.
Back home, Ellie had found herself following the creek to old Mister Clute’s small ranch, which hadn’t been too far from town, when she couldn’t take Aunt Millicent’s never-ending rants any longer. It was there she’d discovered that she’d loved the country. There she’d begun to dream of life on a ranch.
Knowing she was going to be a part of a ranch had been an added bonus to accepting Mathew’s proposal and fulfilling her dream.
All her life she’d been put down, told what to do . . . and rejected. The one person who’d accepted her had been old Mister Clute. She’d thought things would be different here, more like they’d been with her old neighbor. But nothing was different. Mathew was treating her just as her aunt had.
Ellie lifted her clothes from the trunk, the feel of them giving her fortitude.
It was a new day for Melvina Eldora Smith McConnell.
Mathew, the stubborn man, might think he was going to deny her all the dreams bulging inside her heart—but he had another think coming!
“Whoa, there,” Mathew snapped. Having gotten the saddle onto Ruthless’s back without getting killed, the next step was getting on his back still alive. And that was the tricky part.
Easing his boot into the stirrup, he saw the colt’s ears twitch, a sure sign the fight would be on. Ready to rid himself of the clashing emotions raging inside him, Mathew shoved his boot into the stirrup, threw his leg over, and held on! The battle was on.
The horse was greener than green, as rank a ride as any Mathew had ever ridden. Ruthless, infuriated and fearful, reacted violently. Mathew knew deep in his heart that there was some fear in him too, that he and the horse had that in common. They were both fighting that as much as each other.
The angry animal bucked and twisted and tried its best to unseat him. Lying back in the saddle, Mathew held on. Sweat poured from Mathew’s brow. His muscles burned from using all of them—his thighs, forearms, his gut—to stay in the saddle. Ruthless was not tiring, instead, he kicked repeatedly, traveling about the corral like a Texas twister. Mathew had the skill to hang on and not eat dirt where the horse was concerned.
But with Ellie he was buried neck deep in dirt.
Ruthless had him riding a wicked buck midair when movement out of the corner of Mathew’s eye snagged his attention. A small person in baggy pants and a big shirt came flouncing out of his house, hat in hand, blond hair shining in the sunlight.
Her expression grim as she stalked his way.
Mathew was so startled he almost lost his seat. His hands went slack for a moment.
Ruthless took advantage of his distraction—immediately twisting into the fence, scraping Mathew’s legs against the corral rungs. An instant of lost concentration was all it took for the horse to send Mathew flying from the saddle and straight over the top of the fence. Something struck him hard. Stars burst inside his head, bright and hot, and then he bit the dust.
The alarmed blue eyes of his wife staring down at him through a white rain of cascading stars was the last thing he saw before the world went dark.
I killed him!
“Mathew,” Ellie cried, dropping to the dirt as she stared at his pale face. Blood spit at her from the gash on his h
ead—it was a gusher!
Jerking her shirttail out of her britches, she grabbed it between her teeth and yanked—and almost broke her teeth! The shirt was no thin petticoat, and it refused to rip.
Wishing for the first time in her life that she was wearing the ridiculous piece of clothing, Ellie panicked—she was just about to yank off the shirt and hold it to his forehead when she spied his knife in its holder tied to his belt. Fumbling for it with trembling hands, Ellie freed it from its home and stabbed the blade into her shirt tail, slicing off a large section of the fabric.
She wadded it up and held it firmly over the wound.
She’d seen head wounds before, and she prayed it would stop after a few minutes. This was her fault. She’d gone and let her temper, her pent-up rebellion, get the best of her.
She’d thrown her prayers and promises of patience out the window and let herself take control.
Poor Mathew. He’d been so startled at seeing her dressed in her britches that he’d lost concentration. He was beautiful in the saddle, a born rider, and she’d done him in with a pair of britches.
Not even considering that her timing for a confrontation could wait until he was off the dangerous animal, oh no, she’d stormed outside determined to have her way right then and there.
And just look what it had gotten her . . . very likely a soon-to-be-dead husband!
“I’ve mourned the day you were born, Melvina. Good riddance and woe to the man who takes you in.” Her aunt’s parting words as she’d climbed aboard the stage echoed in the recesses of her heart. So thrilled to be on her way, and so hardened to the bitter words of her aunt, Ellie never considered that she might well and truly bring catastrophe to her new family. Tears of fear clogged in her throat. Murderin’ Melvina.
“Please don’t die,” she whispered, watching the blue cloth turn a dark red. “Dear Lord, please, please stop this bleeding.” Her prayer rang out loud and pleading as her fingers turned sticky with Mathew’s blood. “I’m no good to anyone. I’ve been here a week and already added my husband to my list of . . . of . . . dead.” She eked the last word weakly.
Margaret Brownley, Robin Lee Hatcher, Mary Connealy, Debra Clopton Page 11