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

by A Bride for All Seasons

  Looking at the pale, oh so handsome face of her near dead husband, she knew the truth. She was born a killer.

  Tears slipped from her eyes. Lifting the soaked rag, she peeked at the gash. There was a knot forming there and the blood flow had eased. She willed him to open his eyes. Sweat made trails in the drying blood. She needed to cool him down.

  Running to the water trough, she filled a bucket and hurried back. No time to boil the water. Taking his knife she sliced off the other side of her big shirttail. She dipped it into the cool water and gently pressed the cloth to his forehead, careful to wipe around the wound and not over it. He moaned but didn’t move. His dark lashes didn’t even flicker.

  She had to get him out of the scorching sun. Standing, she grabbed him under the arms. Grunting, she put her full weight into the effort. The man was six feet something and weighed far more than she did. He didn’t budge. She planted her feet, took hold of him, and tried harder—throwing her whole body into pulling him. Straining, her hands slipped and she fell backward flat on her bottom in the dust.

  Huffing, she wiped sweat from her brow and searched for help. Spotting Prudy watching her from the corner of the barn, Ellie’s heart sparked with hope.

  “Ah! Come here, pretty Prudy,” she called, striding toward the mule. Prudence looked up but didn’t look too trustful. Ellie grabbed a rope hanging on a post by the barn and, quickly making a loop, threaded the rope through. Yes, thanks to Mister Clute, she wasn’t as helpless as Mathew had thought her to be.

  Whipping the rope to twirling above her head, she walked to the edge of the barn and let the rope fly. At the same instant, Prudy broke for clear pastures. Ellie had anticipated this and the rope landed perfectly around her neck—a fact Prudy did not like. Not in the least!

  A horrible noise erupted from the animal as she continued running full blast for high country. But Ellie held tight to the rope. When it went taut, Ellie was jerked off her feet, flying through the air briefly before landing in the dirt for the second time that day. Ellie held tight, though. Mathew’s life depended on her. She was dragged behind the wildly circling mule, bouncing and bumping like a rag doll, dragged through dirt and rocks.

  When she hit a large bump, Ellie screamed, flopped over, and stared at the sky as it raced by. Ellie’s hand slipped, the rope jerked from her hand, and only then did she realize her hand was wrapped in the rope. She was in a pickle now.

  “Prudence, whoa, mule!” Mathew’s deep, commanding voice rang out.

  He was alive. Ellie had never heard such a wonderful sound as his voice. Wanting to cry with joy, she cranked her head and saw him staggering to stand as she flew past him in a cloud of dirt.

  “Hellllp me,” she chattered, skidding over several rough patches. “Ow! Oh!” She’d be mortified if she wasn’t in so much pain!

  “Prudence, halt this minute, you stubborn mule,” Mathew bellowed.

  To Ellie’s relief, Prudy arched her path toward the barely standing cowboy, slowed, and trotted his way.

  ELLIE WOULD HAVE FLUNG HER ARMS AROUND MATHEW’S neck if she could move.

  And if the sky would stop spinning.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, blood covered but glorious looking to Ellie. “What in the world are you doing?” He looked a little unstable as he reached down, grimacing and tugging the rope from around her aching hand. When she was free, he held his hand out to her. “Can you stand?”

  She reached for his offered hand. “Thank you,” she managed as they both staggered while she gained her feet. “You were out cold and bleeding like a waterfall,” she said, staring into his dazed eyes. “I was trying to get Prudy to help me get you out of the sunlight.”

  “You were doing a fine job of it too.” A grin tipped his lips as he swayed. She feared he wasn’t going to stay upright long.

  “Funny,” Ellie said, woozy herself, wrapping an arm around his waist. Pulling his arm across her shoulders, she forgot the pain of her bumps and bruises the instant she realized she was snuggled up against him.

  “Walk, cowboy. We need to get you into the house before you pass out again.”

  “Why, thank you, little lady,” he said, sounding odd, his speech slurred and his feet fumbling beneath him.

  If she hadn’t known better, she’d say the man was drunk. He was trying to help, trying to support some of his weight as they swayed and weaved their way to the house with Prudy trailing them.

  Something wasn’t right.

  They managed to make it up the step onto the porch and then through the doorway. From the back room she could hear Sophie crying. The wails so distraught that Ellie knew she’d been crying for a while.

  From the yard, Prudy joined in the melee, hee-hawing her unhappiness at being left outside.

  Ellie concentrated on getting Mathew to the bedroom, praying he wouldn’t collapse before they made it to the bed.

  Poor Sophie was standing up in her crib when they entered, her face stained with tears. Thankfully she calmed down when she saw them. “Mama,” she hiccupped as she watched them stagger past her toward the big bed. Ellie’s heart melted even as she struggled to get the baby’s pa settled.

  “Here we go, ease on down here,” Ellie commanded gently, her hand splayed out across his flat stomach as she eased him to sit on the side of the bed. He swayed as he sat. Their faces were so close she could feel his breath on her skin. His eyes, dazed and a little crazy looking, held hers. Grinning lazily, he touched her cheek.

  “You sure do look pretty,” he murmured, and before she knew what was happening he pressed his lips to hers.

  Ellie’s breath caught at the tenderness of his touch. Wonder and bliss, her first kiss! The longing for love filled her as she joined in, timidly at first and then with gusto. Suddenly Mathew’s lips stilled and to Ellie’s disbelief he pitched backward—passing straight out, he hit the mattress like a rock!

  His eyes closed, his breathing even . . . and a broad smile on his face.

  Someone was banging cast-iron skillets inside his skull.

  Easing his eyes open, Mathew squinted at the ceiling and tried to get his bearings. He remembered Ellie coming out of the house in man’s clothes and Ruthless taking him to task at the corral fence.

  Things were fuzzy after that. Just like his head. He lifted a hand off the bed—bed? He was on his bed. How had that happened?

  He moved to sit up when a wave of dizziness slammed into him.

  Ellie padded into the room, the sound a loud echo in his skull. “You’re awake. I was so worried. How do you feel?”

  He tried to focus. There were two Ellies. Which he thought was nice since she was so pretty; it didn’t hurt to have two of her to look at.

  “If the room would stop spinning I’d be happier.” He closed one eye—nope, still two. Both Ellies planted their hands on their hips. He could see a faint flush on her cheeks. Both sets, Ellie One and Ellie Two. His head ached and he reached to rub his temple—

  “No!” they cried, rushing forward. Ellie One grabbed his hand and tugged it away from his head. “I feel weird,” he mumbled. Looking down, he saw blood on his shirt.

  “You hit your head, Mathew. You can’t rub it or the bleeding will start again.”

  Bleeding. He had a flash of Ellie’s arms wrapped around him.

  “What happened?” He fought a wave of nausea.

  “You were thrown from that horse and hit your head on the rail over the gate. You bled something fierce and then you were baking in the sun . . .” The words rushed from Ellie, and suddenly it all came back to Mathew in a wave.

  Ellie in britches! Then, coming to, he’d struggled to focus, seeing her throw a lasso on Prudy as if she were a seasoned cowpoke!

  “You can rope,” he said. “And you got dragged by Prudy.”

  He looked her up and down. She still wore the britches and there was splattered blood all over her.

  “Yes, well, I can explain that. First, though, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you so wi
th the change of clothes. I know your getting hurt was my fault. You saw me and it almost got you killed.”

  “Yup, it threw me.” He gave a shrug and saw worry in all four of her beautiful eyes. He concentrated and finally the two Ellies merged into one. The pain began to recede just a bit. “Don’t blame yourself. Ruthless is a tough colt with a mind of his own. I should have never let him sense I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “No, it was my fault.” She looked away. “You ride well . . . You really do.”

  Her eyes darted to meet his, instantly dropped to his lips, and Mathew’s insides filled with longing and an overwhelming need to kiss her.

  Kiss her. Their gazes locked and she turned pinker than a cherry blossom. The color crept from beneath the cotton shirt and spread up her slender neck to her jaw and then to those trembling lips—and suddenly Mathew was hit with a full-blown flashback of kissing Ellie!

  “Ellie.” He sprang to his feet, wobbled, and slammed back down onto the bed. “I kissed you.” No wonder she looked so embarrassed. He’d sat right here on this bed and kissed her. She’d been helping him and he’d kissed her.

  And then he’d passed out.

  He was such a knucklehead.

  Ellie stiffened, her jaw lifted. Her eyes flashed above flaming cheeks. “I am your wife.” Her eyes overly bright, she stomped loudly from the room.

  Mathew wobbled. He’d really made a mess of things now and that was pure fact.

  Ellie fought tears—she would not cry. Yes, she’d almost killed him, and she was truly sorry for that. But he’d kissed her and passed out smiling, and left her with the most amazing feelings of hope and longing.

  And then he hadn’t even remembered it.

  Reaching the stove, Ellie grabbed some rags and lifted the lid on the heavy pot of stew. Stewing herself, with the need to throttle her husband.

  How dare the man look so insulted by the fact that he’d kissed her!

  Married couples kissed. But he didn’t want to have a baby with her and he didn’t want to kiss her. Ellie fought hard not to let this stab to her heart penetrate. But her heart had been weakened by his kiss—his wonderful, amazing kiss.

  Tears slipped over the edges of her eyes. Drat them—she swatted at them with the cuff of her shirt. She focused on Sophie playing and singing in the corner with her doll and a tin cup. She was here for Sophie; she was here for Sophie.

  She sniffed. She would not cry.

  “Ellie.”

  The air left her lungs—Oh, dear Lord, how long has he been standing there?

  “Ellie, look at me. Please.”

  She swiped at her eyes, hoping it would look as if she were pushing stray hair from her temples. Turning, she found Mathew just two steps away from her.

  Gripping the back of the cane chair, he was as pale as moonlight.

  “You shouldn’t be up,” she admonished. “I—I was just about to bring you some stew.” Ignoring the awkwardness coursing through her, she slipped her arm around his waist. Instantly a wave of longing flooded her.

  “You need to sit,” she said gruffly, her eyes downturned.

  “No. I don’t want to sit. Ellie, we need to talk.”

  “True,” she agreed breathlessly. “We do. However, you falling out on the floor because you’re too stubborn to sit down isn’t going to help us get much talking done,” she fussed. When she looked at him at last, his lips lifted into a darling crooked smile.

  “Are you always so bossy?”

  “Maybe,” she hedged, looking away, her stomach dipping at his nearness . . . She was a lost cause. Her lips still burned from his kiss hours ago, and of their own accord her eyes sought his lips once more. He smiled. Her gaze flew upward to find him watching her.

  Her heart kicked about so hard that it put Ruthless’s ruckus to shame.

  “Ellie. I haven’t meant to hurt your feelings,” he said gently, his fingers pushing a wayward strand of hair from her temple. “You have to understand there are some things I can’t give a wife. I’ve tried to explain that, but I’ve done a poor job of it. One of those things is my heart, and because I can’t give you all you deserve, I won’t take advantage of you.”

  Reality wrapped around her like a cold, dark night. She was unlovable; it was true after all.

  “Please sit down before you fall down,” she urged, trying to resign herself to what she’d never before been able to accept.

  And she really couldn’t handle it if he fell and the bleeding started up again.

  He swayed and grabbed hold of Ellie, pulling her close. Ellie flung her arms around his waist and staggered, barely keeping him from toppling. Breathing hard, he held on to her, and when Ellie looked up his eyes were as wide as a full moon. Ellie felt faint—it was like an ailment or something when he was around!

  Her head swam. He smelled of leather and pine, and Ellie realized she could happily breathe his scent for the rest of her life. The feel of his corded arms holding on to her was magical. Though he might not want her, he knew how to hold her so that she felt safe and wanted . . . Confusion tangled in her heart.

  His arms tightened around her. She felt his heartbeat quicken against her own heart, and she thought he was going to kiss her again.

  How could it be that he didn’t want her and yet his kiss had been pure bliss?

  Ellie’s head spun with the delight of it. She closed her eyes and waited . . . Another moment ticked by, then he took hold of her arms and firmly set her away from him.

  “We have to talk, Ellie.”

  MATHEW YANKED THE OTHER CHAIR OUT FROM THE table and sank into the one she’d pulled out for him earlier. “We have to talk—no getting mad and walking out. There are some things I’ve got to know.”

  Numb, Ellie sank into the seat. She felt as if she were the one who had struck her head. She was thankful for the gingham table cover she’d placed on the table that kept her shaking hands from his view.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Ellie. I need to know what happened in your life to bring you here as a mail-order bride. And where did you learn to rope like that?”

  With all they had to talk about—the kiss, the fact that he didn’t want her. And he wanted to talk about roping?

  Unbelievably, relief washed over her, glad to have the moment to back away from the problems at hand. To find solid ground.

  They were actually going to sit at the table and talk to each other. This was good.

  The Hitching Post had set them up so quickly and there had only been a couple of letters between them. Both of their situations hadn’t given them a lot of time to spend on a long correspondence. As things had turned out, she was certain Mathew hadn’t seen her actual letters anyway. They’d been filled with her love of the Lord, and if he’d read them, he would have known she was a believer before she’d stepped off that stage.

  “Well, it’s a little embarrassing actually,” she admitted.

  “If we are going to become friends and make this work, then we should get comfortable with things. Even the embarrassing things.”

  Friends. Ellie couldn’t speak for a moment as the very thought sank in . . . she’d so longed for a friend. She had told God she would be patient and then immediately she’d plowed forward and caused all this trouble. He was steadfast even in her fickleness.

  Sophie crossed the room and grabbed her arm, smiling up at Ellie. Picking her up, Ellie breathed in her baby scent and cherished the way Sophie snuggled contently into the crook of her arm. Ellie met Mathew’s eyes with courage.

  “All my life I’ve been a little of a black sheep. You see, my mother died giving birth to me, so I have that in common with Sophie. Also, before the year was out, my father died . . . Aunt Millicent said it was of a broken heart. He just couldn’t take the loss of his beloved wife. My aunt said he couldn’t stand to look at me, so he left raising me to her. A job she didn’t want since she too grieved the loss of my mother, her younger sister. And then her husband, Mutt, died not long after that. Uncle Mutt had
started drinking because of the stress of having me to raise. And so when he was coming out of the saloon one night, he staggered in front of a runaway buggy and was killed.” She’d gotten the story out without much emotion. “My aunt never let a day go by without reminding me of the misfortune I’d caused. And her friends’ children picked up on what their parents were whispering about, so they teased me relentlessly.”

  Ellie had been looking down as she finished that part of her story.

  “You were a child, Ellie,” Mathew said softly. “None of that was your fault.”

  The fact that Mathew would reassure her sent a gladness coursing through her.

  “I know I’m not supposed to speak of it, but I can’t talk about my past without telling what the Lord has done for me, Mathew. I found solace in His Word. I’ve had to live with the consequences of those deaths, but the guilt for it doesn’t belong to me.” To her happiness, Mathew simply nodded when she’d said she needed to speak about her faith.

  “You weren’t responsible,” he said, looking from her to Sophie.

  “I’ve longed all my life to feel the closeness of a family that I’ve never known. When I came here I became pushy and headstrong because I wanted it all so much. I was aggressive when I should have been patient. I’m sorry. I love—your child so much. And I’m so grateful to be here.”

  Mathew looked thoughtful.

  Finally, with pain in his eyes, he said, “I’ll admit that it’s been hard for me to give my whole heart to Sophie. She reminds me so much of Beth. And it hurts looking at her sometimes and knowing what I lost. It shames me now, thinking about it. But I would never treat her as you’ve been treated.”

  His words were quiet as he studied his child. Ellie’s throat constricted with emotion as he touched Sophie’s soft hair. “I needed someone to love her like I couldn’t. That was why I let Maggie talk me into finding a mama for her.” He lifted his gaze to her and gave a quick shrug.