Colorado Bride

by Leigh Greenwood

  There’s a bucket next to the porch with soap and towels,” Carrie told Jake. “Breakfast will be on the table before you can finish washing up.”

  “You mean I have to wash before I can eat?” Jake asked Carrie.

  “You do if you’re thinking to sit down to my table,” Katie informed him obstinately. It was obvious to everyone she had taken an instant dislike to Jake, and it wasn’t going to be easy to persuade her to change her mind.

  “Here’s your coffee pot,” Jake said. “I suppose I should have cleaned it.”

  “That’s okay,” Carrie replied.

  “To be sure it’s not,” Katie declared angrily as she took the pot and cups from Carrie. “If he can drink all that coffee, he can clean up after himself,” she announced, and stalked back into the station.

  “If you like, we could have a pot for you each evening,” Carrie offered.

  “That’s mighty nice of you, ma’am, but I usually have a swallow of whiskey to keep me warm.” Carrie was about to step through the door, but she was back on the porch in an instant.

  “Let’s get one thing straight, Mr. Bemis. I will not tolerate drinking while you work for me. What you do in town or on your time off is up to you as long as you’re up to your work when you return, but there will be no smoking and no drinking on this property.”

  Caught in the middle of washing his face, Jake could only stare up at her, water dripping from his chin and arms.

  “Did you bring any whiskey with you?” Carrie asked.

  “Well, yes, ma’am, but it’s just a little.”

  “Give it to me.”

  “What?”

  “I said give me the bottle of whiskey.”

  “It’s over in the barn, but it’s only a drop.”

  “You can bring it to me after breakfast, but I want your promise you won’t bring any more to this station.”

  Jake took some time drying his face, and it was clear to Lucas he was gauging his chances of getting away and deciding they weren’t very good. “Okay, but it sure takes the heart out of a man to know he can’t have his drop of whiskey every now and then.”

  “A drop you could have and be none the worse,” Katie said sternly, once again standing at Carrie’s shoulder. “It’s the swallows you take to keep it company that’ll get you skinned alive.”

  Jake looked hard at Katie. He was never very good in the morning, and it wasn’t easy for him to work up an interest in a second female with that little widow woman around, but this other gal was a mite nippy, and he thought he’d better check her out before she did him some damage. He peered past Carrie and was surprised to see a young, ruddy-cheeked Irish girl, fully as large as he was, staring back at him with wrathful eyes. She looked mad enough to lay him out with a frying pan.

  “Don’t you be staring at me with your beady eyes, Mr. Jake Bemis,” Katie said, speaking sharply and waving a threatening finger under his nose. “Get yourself cleaned up before you come into me kitchen, watch your manners and don’t track mud all over me floors, and maybe we will get along okay. I already promised Mrs. Simpson I’d treat you with Christian charity, but you be giving me any cheek, and I’ll lay the side of your face open. Then you’ll have to catch your own dinner for I’ll not fix it.” Having delivered herself of that warning, Katie returned to the kitchen and started beating the flapjack batter with unwonted energy. Jake was the last to go inside.

  “Wonder why she’s beating her batter that away,” Jake muttered to no one in particular. “Must be something in it she means to kill?” He shuffled over to a chair and dropped in it. “All right, lassie, you can put a helping of that breakfast you’re so proud of on my plate. I’ll let you know if you’ve got any reason to be giving yourself airs.”

  “You keep a civil tongue in your head, or I’ll be letting the air out of you,” Katie said, whirling on him. “Don’t you even know enough to wait for a lady to be seated first?”

  “Never knowed any ladies,” Jake explained, getting up while Lucas held a chair for Carrie, who was looking from Jake to Katie with garnering dismay. “From what I can gamer, it’s a waste of time, them being so full of themselves they can’t take no notice of a poor sort like me.”

  “I’ll have you know Mrs. Simpson is a lady.”

  “Sure she is, but she’s different. There ain’t no shilly-shallying about her. You cross her, and she’ll shoot you. Simple as that.”

  “Is that all you respect? A gun?”

  “You got to be a fool not to respect a gun,” Jake said. “Or dead,” he added after a moment’s reflection.

  “Please serve breakfast, Katie,” Carrie directed, hoping to head off what promised to be an explosion. “You and Jake can compare philosophies later.”

  “I’d sooner milk a wild cow.”

  “Probably be more purpose to it,” Jake muttered. “At least you’d have something when you was done jabbering,” he explained after they all looked at him inquiringly.

  “Meals are served the same time every day of the week regardless of the stage schedule,” Carrie intervened, hoping to prevent Katie from picking up Jake’s gauntlet. “Lunch at noon, and dinner at six o’clock. We don’t eat with the passengers, but there’s always something left if you’re hungry. There’s nearly always a pot of coffee on the stove, but if not, you’re welcome to fix it yourself.”

  “And you be sure to leave me kitchen orderly,” Katie warned. “There’s too much to be done for me to be cleaning up behind no-account men.”

  What have I done? Carrie asked herself as they ate in uncomfortable silence. Who would ever have thought mild-mannered Katie would have taken such a violent dislike to Jake or that she would be so vocal about it? And poor Jake hadn’t even had a chance to do anything to annoy her. True, his appearance at the table could use some improvement. He looked as though he’d never taken the bath Carrie had interrupted. He might not actually be dirty, but he looked disreputable enough that Carrie decided it would be good for the station if she helped Jake clean up his appearance.

  “I bought some work clothes for you,” Carrie informed Jake. “You can change after breakfast, and I’ll wash your own clothes and put them away for you.”

  “You talking to me?” Jake asked, surprised. “What’s wrong with my duds?” he asked, looking at himself to see if there was something about him he hadn’t noticed.

  “You have the appearance of rolling in the dust with the horses, that’s what,” Katie announced. “You’d better have Mr. Barrow strip him to the skin, ma’am. And if I were you, I’d boil everything he brought with him. I’d take me oath he is infested with lice.”

  “Now don’t you go getting excited about stripping me, young lassie. It won’t do you no good.” Katie looked as if she was about to take a knife to him; Lucas did his best to hide a grin while Carrie thought in dismay that it might have been easier to live with Baca Riggins than it was going to be to live with these two.

  “To blazes with ye!” Katie stormed, her Irish brogue thickened by anger. “The female wanting to do anything to yer unnatural self except throw ye on the manure pile is no better than she ought to be,” she declared, righteous wrath stoking the flush in her cheeks. “And if ye dare say another word to me, I’ll make me a giblet of yer innards.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, Mrs. Simpson, I think I’ll finish my breakfast on the porch. I don’t know how you keep up your appetite with that gal screeching about the place. It’s just about turned me off my food.” Jake shuffled toward the doorway. “Must say, though, she’s got a mighty fine way with a stove.” He took a bite from his plate as he backed out the door, then caught it with his foot as it swung shut to keep it from banging.

  “There’s them in Ireland what would shoot a man like that,” Katie said. “Bless Pat, the blarney fool left his coffee.” She rose and flounced through the door. “You forgot this,” she said, setting his cup down with a thump.

  “No, I didn’t,” insisted Jake. “I didn’t have any more hands. I k
nowed you’d bring it to me. There’s some females that just can’t resist pointing out a man’s mistakes.”

  “I’ve no doubt, but it would take a whole room full of females to catalog your shortcomings,” Katie said with a snort.

  “Seems like somebody put a burr under that filly’s saddle,” Jake said as though to himself. “I doubt if it would be worth taking out though, Too tough for any man to chew.”

  “Now that will be enough, both of you,” Carrie declared, deciding if things didn’t stop now, there would be no way the three of them could coexist. “We have to work together, and rather than picking at each other, I want you to look for ways to get along.”

  “I’m agreeable. I’m a peaceable man, even if I am a little ripe.”

  “From the smell of you, I would say rancid be the better word.”

  “I said that’s enough,” Carrie repeated, and both were quick to catch the note of steel in her voice. “Katie, you stop criticizing Jake for every bream he takes, and Jake, you stop baiting her. We’ve got too much work to do to waste our time like this. I’m determined to make this the best station on the whole route, and it’s going to take all the energy and cooperation you have. Is that understood?” Both protagonists nodded their understanding, but Carrie had an uneasy feeling the battle had hardly begun.

  Carrie and Lucas accompanied Jake back to the barn. “About all you have to do is keep the horses and harnesses in good shape and be ready with a fresh team whenever a stage comes in,” Lucas said.

  “The schedule is posted on the wall in the station, but I’ll make a copy for you to keep out here,” Carrie told him. “I also insist that the barn be kept neat, the stalls mucked out every day, and the tack room kept orderly. I want you to replace those nails with wooden pegs. They will tear up the harnesses sooner or later.”

  “You ain’t looking to give a man any time to himself, are you?” asked Jake.

  “I’m not paying you to sit back on a bale of hay or doze in the tack room. I want an inventory of our feed and hay. I need to know how much we require on a regular basis, and how much extra to lay in for the winter.”

  “She’s worse than any man I ever knew for laying on the work,” Jake complained to Lucas. “I’ll be worn down before the month’s out.”

  °No you won’t,” Carrie informed him. “The alcohol will be completely out of your system, your muscles will have some tone, and you won’t shuffle and stumble along like a man twice your age.”

  “Ma’am, you’re nearbout as bad as that Irish gal. Don’t you like men at all?”

  “That has nothing to do with it,” Carrie replied, blushing lightly and being careful not to glance at Lucas. “I don’t like mess and I don’t like sloppy work. When I pay for a job to be done, I expect it to be done well.”

  “I knowed I should have left for Denver the minute you turned your back.”

  “I’d have gone after you.”

  “That’s what I figured. It’s the only reason I’m here.”

  “Now get out of those clothes, and give me any others you brought with you. If what I bought doesn’t fit, you can exchange them for some that do, but I’ll deduct these from your wages and you can buy any extras you need next time you’re in town, I’ll wash your own clothes and put them away for you.” She handed Jake a wrapped bundle that contained some Levi’s and several checked flannel shirts. He looked at the bundle with downcast eyes and mumbled softly under his breath, but he went off and Lucas soon returned with the clothes he had been wearing.

  “What have I let you talk me into?” she asked, in not entirely feigned trepidation. “I’ve practically got a full-scale war on my hands.”

  “Don’t blame me.”

  “Why not? You’re the one who recommended Jake. In fact, you egged me on until I practically had to agree to hire him.”

  “You noticed that, huh?”

  “Of course I did. I’m not blind or stupid.”

  “Not stupid, but I’m not sure about blind.” Carrie gave him an inquiring look. “Blind not to see I’d rather be talking about you. Won’t you sit with me a little while?”

  “I’ve got an armload of clothes, a house full of work, and you want me to sit talking to you.”

  “Well, I’d actually rather do something else, but I figured talking was about all I was going to get in broad daylight.” Carrie looked at him with pretended condemnadon, then broke out in an amused chuckle.

  “You’re almost as bad as Jake.”

  “Will you sit with me?”

  “No.”

  “Not ever?”

  “Not now.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. When I finish my work, I guess.”

  “You’ll be dead before you finish your work. I know women like you. They’re never satisfied unless they’ve finished one job and have two more waiting to get started. Sit with me this afternoon.”

  “I can’t. I’ve got two stages coming through.”

  “Then how about tonight?”

  “If I have time.”

  “I’ll have none of that. Agree right now, or I’ll kidnap you and drag you off into the hills.”

  “You probably would,” Carrie said, aware of the pleasurable feelings creating havoc inside her, “but I wouldn’t like that.”

  “I promise you would.”

  “Lucas Barrow, you’re the most brazen man.”

  “No, I’m not. I can’t believe how tame I’ve been acting. If my uncle could see me now, he’d swear I had a wasting fever and send for the doctor. I’ve never taken so much time to court a female in my life.”

  “Is that what you’re doing, courting me?”

  “I’m not just aiming to pass the time of day. I’ve got other work needing to be done.”

  “Then go do it,” Carrie replied smartly. “I wouldn’t want to hold up your schedule.”

  “Hold up my schedule, hell! You’ve already ruined it. Will you walk with me tonight?”

  “Okay, but you’re going to have to behave yourself. Katie is keeping a sharp eye on us.”

  “We could go up to my cabin. She couldn’t see us there.”

  “No we won’t.”

  “You can’t blame a man for trying.”

  “I can and I will.”

  “Shrew,” he said, but it sounded like an endearment.

  The battle resumed at lunch. Jake washed before be entered the station, but he was unshaven and his hair was uncombed.

  “I would appreciate it if you would shave each morning,” Carrie said after they sat down. “I don’t care whether you do it before or after breakfast, but it will give the passengers a much better impression if everyone is neat and well groomed.”

  “Then you’d best do something about that mop of his hair,” Katie pointed out. “It won’t make much difference if you clean up only half his head and let the other half go to seed.”

  “It just needs to be cut.”

  “There’s a barber in town,” Jake said, hopeful of being allowed into town for at least a few hours.

  “There’s no need to go into town,” Lucas said. “I’m sure one of these ladies can trim it for you.” Jake looked as if he’d rather have surrendered his head to a bobcat, but he brightened when neither woman was quick to volunteer.

  “I’ve no doubt I could do it,” Katie finally offered. “I cut me brothers’ hair often enough.”

  “I ain’t letting no damned female loose on my head with a pair of scissors,” Jake protested. “I’m liable to end up bald.”

  “Jake Bemis, I won’t have you cussing or blaspheming in me presence.” Katie warned him, a martial light in her eyes.

  “Lord help us. First Mrs. Simpson takes away my whiskey and my clothes. Now you’re trying to take away my words and my hair. Pretty soon there won’t be nothing left of me.”

  “Good,” Katie state uncompromisingly. “Then maybe the good Lord can start over afresh. Somebody sure made a mess out of you the first time.”

  After
they finished eating, Katie directed Jake to carry a chair out into the back yard. She draped one of the smaller tablecloths over him and prepared to begin work.

  “You remember that you’re cutting a man’s hair, woman. I take some pride in my looks.”

  “I’ve no doubt, but the rest of us take fright,” Katie retorted.

  “I wonder how long before one of them murders the odier?” Lucas wondered as he and Carrie lingered over their coffee.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Carrie said, looking suddenly as if she had thought of something that was about to make her break out with laughter. “I think Katie likes him a little.”

  “Likes him! Are you crazy? She hasn’t stopped digging at him since he set foot in the door.”

  “A woman doesn’t pay all that attention to a man she’s not interested in. Watch what she does, and pay no attention to anything she says.” Lucas looked as though he thought the idea was lunacy, but as he listened to the exchange between the two in a new light, he wasn’t quite so sure. It certainly wasn’t the way he would have courted a woman, or wanted one to court him, but then he wasn’t a woman. Men were predictable. You could nearly always plan on them behaving according to pattern, but you never could tell what a woman was going to do, especially a woman in love.

  It wasn’t too long before Jake emerged from under the tablecloth with a thoroughly competent haircut and a totally difference appearance.

  “He’s not so bad looking now,” Carrie remarked rather surprised. “And he looks at least ten years younger.”

  “You keep your eyes on me, Carrie Simpson,” Lucas ordered, his voice not entirely free from anxiety. “I won’t stand for competition from the likes of Jake Bemis.”

  “You’ve got to be in the running before you can be said to have competition,” Carrie retorted.

  “You just make sure I’m the only one running.”

  Carrie got up with a toss of her head and took their coffee cups to the sink, but she decided it was wiser not to answer him until she was more certain of her own feelings.

  * * *

  “That you, Jake?” Bap Turner asked when Jake brought out the team for the afternoon stage.