Chance Creek Brides (Volumes 1-3 & the Stagecoach Bride)

by Mary L. Briggs

And this errand couldn’t end too soon. The fifteen chicks trapped in the cage behind the seat of the buckboard had about cheeped his ears off. This should be a woman’s job, bringing silly little chicks to town. And it probably would have been, he had to admit. But his sister-in-law, Missy, had caught him making eyes at Violet Summers during last Sunday’s preaching. And now she was using the situation to her advantage.

  Not that she’d said she would mention it to Aunt Della. But he was sure that was part of the bribe to get him to transport the noisy birds into town. He’d be more than glad to drop them off at the Mercantile and be done with it. And he’d learn to be a little bit more discreet in his flirting.

  He pulled on the reins again as the wagon rounded the curve, slowing Barkley as they approached the traffic ahead. His breath caught in his throat. There she was, standing on the sidewalk in front of Ada’s Millinery. She was busy talking to Penny White, no doubt sharing a conversation about which new hat to buy.

  Seth sighed. Violet was pretty as a morning dove on a fence rail. Even from this distance, the yellow dress she was wearing brought out the gold in her hair. And though he couldn’t see them, he was sure her blue eyes were sparkling.

  He hadn’t planned it, but he’d lost his heart to the most beautiful girl in town. And that sweet smile of hers told him she felt the same way. Of course, he’d have a lot of proving to do to convince her father that he was good enough for her. A banker might not consider a poor rancher good enough for his daughter, at first. But love always won out in the end. At least that’s what Aunt Della said.

  He swallowed hard and ignored his hammering heart. Last Sunday at the preaching service over on Swallow Creek, Violet Summer’s had made eyes at him the whole, long sermon. And he’d returned the glances right back, enjoying every sweet smile and bat of her long lashes.

  He swiftly ignored the stab of guilt that bolted through him when he realized he couldn’t even remember the subject of the sermon. Surely the Lord could forgive a man in love. Still, he’d have to do better next preaching service.

  A slight movement of Violet’s gloved hand caught his eye and he realized that she was waving to him. Taking a hand from the reins, he returned the greeting, embarrassed he couldn’t control the big smile on his face.

  His gaze followed the girl and her friend as they disappeared into the store.

  ***

  “Charlie!” Frankie flung the broom away and grabbed the straps of the child’s overhauls. Moving fast, she pulled him toward the interior of the store.

  They were barely inside when the wagon struck the edge of the walk. A crack! filled the air as the front wheel broke and the buckboard seemed to teeter. Frankie stared from the doorway, as if watching something in a dream from afar. The buckboard tipped on its side, sending a shovel flying into the air. She pushed Charlie to the floor and shielded him as the front window of the store shattered, spewing bits of glass through the air.

  When she dared open her eyes, her heart lurched at the sight of the store window, shattered into tiny pieces and scattered across the floor. The shelf of toilet soaps and hair brushes that faced the window was covered in pieces of glass, as was the arrangement of books just beneath. Picking through all of that was going to be a mess.

  Pushing herself up and pulling Charlie with her, she glanced outside. Through the dust, she could see an old saddle, a shovel, and a homemade cage, spokes broken and split, containing a few chicks. The fool hardy driver lay in the dusty street. She watched as he slowly pushed himself to a sitting position. Streaks of dirt covered his face and shirt. He reached for the hat that rested beside him and gave it a shake, sending out a cloud of sandy grime. The horse that had been hitched to the wagon was miraculously free and had trotted on down the street.

  The sight of the tiny two legged fluff balls scattering over the area pulled Frankie from her gawking and she dashed out immediately, grabbing the first chick she could catch. A few stood quietly, as if stunned by their fall. Her fingers closed around two of them at once, their tiny hearts beating with fear beneath her palm. She looked up to see Charlie still standing inside the doorway, amazement on his face at the catastrophe before him.

  “Bring a box and help me catch them!” she called.

  Running into the store, he returned immediately with an empty shoe box. She momentarily hoped he hadn’t dumped a pair of new shoes on the floor to get the container. Uncle Wally wouldn’t be too happy about a customer discovering chicken droppings in a pair of new shoes.

  She gave a fast glance at the one who had caused this mess. Naturally, like any man, he was still sitting in the road where he’d been thrown when the wagon began to wobble. Hat now in his hands, he was staring at the scene as if he wondered what had caused all the commotion. Resentment crept through her as she caught another chick.

  “Well if you’re alright, get up and help!” She commanded. Lazy thing, sitting there like an old hen, expecting her to take care of his livestock.

  He blinked, then put on the hat and scrambled to his feet. Studying the situation for a moment, he took chase after a wayward brown chick.

  Several of the hatchlings had managed to conceal themselves beneath the overturned buckboard. Frankie crawled under and through the broken boards, then handed the downy chicks to the owner of the vehicle. Stuffing her hat down harder on her head, she scrambled from under the shambled buckboard and stood.

  “Where are the rest of them?” the fellow demanded, staring at the contents of the box on the walkway. “There were fifteen of them. Now there’s only twelve. You didn’t catch all of them!”

  Frankie’s jaw dropped. How dare he blame her. She coughed away the scratchy dirt in her throat. “It’s hardly my fault,” she said hotly. “If you hadn’t been driving like a goose with a stocking over its head, this whole thing would never have happened. Were you even awake, mister? Look at all the damage you‘ve caused!”

  “Now you listen here, young man,” he said, stepping toward her, grabbing her arm.

  Fear ripped through her, like a spark of fire on a dried out pinecone. Without a moment’s hesitation, she planted the toe of her boot firmly on his shin. If he hadn’t had hold of her arm, she could have kicked harder.

  “Ouch!” He stooped slightly, but his grip only tightened. “Who do you think–”

  He hesitated as their eyes met. Frankie caught her breath as a bolt of hot lightning seemed to rush up her arm. Her heart pounded in her ears and muted whatever words his lips were speaking. For a brief moment she was helpless to defend herself any further. She tried her best to swallow, but her throat was closed. This close to him, she could see he was younger than she’d thought. Staring into deep blue eyes, she felt herself drawn to him, like a dove caught in a net of fine lace. She breathed in his clean scent of soap and sunshine dried clothes.

  “What I mean, is–” he stopped as the small blond headed child plowed into his stomach, fists flying.

  He laughed and grabbed the collar on the small boy’s shirt, holding him at arm’s length. “Hey kid! I wasn’t going to hurt your brother!”

  Charlie stopped punching and looked him in the face. “Frankie’s not my brother. She’s my sister!”

  “Your sis–”

  She watched the young man’s face blanch as he let go of her and grabbed the hat from her head. Her hair, piled underneath and held with a few pins, tumbled down past her shoulders and slapped her face in the morning breeze. She snatched her property back from his hands and shook her head, clearing all the foolishness from it. A tirade of words flooded her mind. “I don’t know who you are mister, but how dare you–”

  He shook his head and interrupted before she could finish. “I’m sorry, Miss. Really. . .sorry. I thought. . .I mean. . .”

  Seeing the bewilderment on his handsome face Frankie managed to swallow her retort. She wasn’t used to seeing a man that looked this fine, much less one with any sort of manners. And he seemed at a loss for words. At least he was gentleman enough to apologize.
Something rare where she came from. Maybe he wasn’t such a scoundrel after all.

  ***

  Seth swallowed hard and stared at the girl before him. Dressed in a work shirt and trousers, it had been easy to mistake her for a young boy. But hat off, hair down, there was no doubt she was a pretty girl. Small and on the verge of being too thin, the pants and shirt hung on her slender frame. Copper streaks laced her dark blond hair and the stark silver of her eyes glowed in the morning light. Her throat and cheeks were pink with anger.

  Something in his chest buzzed and stirred, like honey bees around a hive. He ignored the feeling and pulled his eyes from her gaze and stared at the unruly mess before him. Not only had he wrecked Jared’s wagon, he’d done a lot of damage to the storefront. That glass window wasn’t going to be cheap to replace.

  He sighed. At least no one seemed to be hurt. Best to make sure, though. He turned back to the girl.

  “Are you alright, Miss?”

  “I’m just fine, mister,” she said attempting to stuff her hair back into the hat she’d returned to her head. “Better off than you’re going to be when Uncle Wally gets over here.”

  Uncle? She must be related to Wally Stoner. “Well, like I said, I’m real sorry, Miss.”

  ***

  Frankie’s heart softened at the confusion on his face. Maybe there was a good explanation for the catastrophe spread around them. Still, the broken store window with its fancy lettering and the array of damaged goods was going to be hard to explain to her thrifty uncle.

  But explain he would, she knew, catching a glance of Uncle Wally coming out of the barber shop door and hurrying toward them.

  ***

  “Seth Murphy? What have you done to my store?”

  Seth spun to face Wally Stoner. He’d been intimidated by the big man for almost sixteen years. Since the day he’d caught him pressing his face against the big glass window of the store.

  “Get away from there, boy,” he’d shouted, waving a broom toward him. “I’ve got enough to do without having to stop and clean that window every time you go past it!”

  Only seven years old at the time, fear had thumped through him as he stared at the store owner with the long, shaggy hair, and a scraggly beard. The man’s gruff way of speaking had only made him tremble more.

  Aunt Della had assured him that Mr. Stoner was a nice man, and there was no need to fear him. He had believed her, until this moment. Of course, this time, the man’s anger was justified.

  Seth’s heart plunged as he took in more of the damage he’d caused. He watched the businessman stare at the broken glass fragments that littered the sidewalk and street. The two wooden barrels, cracked and turned on their sides had sent apples rolling across the walk and into the road.

  “Well, sir–”

  Wally interrupted, his voice raging with anger. “I’ve never seen such a mess! Do you know how long it’s gonna take me to get this place cleaned up?”

  Seth swallowed hard. “Sir, I’ll be happy to–”

  “And business. I’m gonna have to close till we get all this glass out of here. And–”

  For the first time since arriving he seemed to notice the skinny girl that had helped rescue the chicks. “Frankie! Are you and Charlie alright?”

  She nodded and glanced at Seth. “We’re just fine, Uncle. I saw him coming and me and Charlie ducked into the store.”

  Wally stared at the shattered window. “I guess the good Lord was looking out for the two of you. It’s a miracle you’re not cut to pieces!” He turned and scowled at Seth.

  Seth swallowed hard and swiped his hand across his forehead. This was all his fault. How could he ever afford to make it right? And the wrecked buckboard. Facing his older brother Jared might even be more complicated than this conversation with Mr. Stoner.

  Chapter 3

  Frankie tied the scrap of red gingham to the bottom of her long braid. A blue silk ribbon would be so much prettier, but it was hardly the thing to go with her dark trousers and brown shirt. In truth, no ribbon would go with such an outfit. It had been five years since she’d worn a skirt. After what happened, it had seemed pointless to try to take care of the homestead wearing a dress. Women had to be strong. Pretty dresses were only for town girls. Maybe someday soon she’d feel like a town girl, herself. But for now, she was still the country girl from Jasper Creek.

  She gave a fast glance at Mrs. Hamilton, busy straightening the collar on the black dress she wore. The woman had three dresses and all of them were black. Uncle Wally had explained that Mrs. Hamilton was in mourning for her dead husband.

  Frankie stared into the mirror. Should she be wearing black? Mama had died only a year ago. Uncle Wally had said Mr. Hamilton had died seven years ago. Seven years of peace for Mr. Hamilton, he had added. Remembering his words, she squelched the urge to laugh. Mama always said to be mindful of others misfortunes. And truth was, she had so many of her own that it seemed even more cruel to laugh at others.

  “You look nice this morning, Mrs. Hamilton,” Frankie smiled. Anyone with such a sour expression could use a nice compliment.

  Mrs. Hamilton narrowed her dark eyes and gave a brief stare in her direction. “Humph! And look at you, all sunshine and cheer this morning.”

  Frankie set her lips in a straight line as the woman swished past her, watching as she stepped out the door and disappeared down the hallway. Having to share a room with Mrs. Hamilton instead of Charlie wasn’t setting right with her. He had always been where she could see him. Making sure he was covered up when it was cold. Checking his forehead for a fever when he was sick. Just generally listening to him breathe as he slept.

  And Mrs. Hamilton was awful hard to get along with. Maybe being in mourning for so long made a person grumpy, she decided, turning her attention back to her reflection.

  The teeth of the comb ran smoothly through the hair at the end of her braid. Seth Murphy was starting work in the store today. She winced at the sting that stabbed at her side. He had mistaken her for Charlie’s brother! How could he be so. . .so . . .

  She blinked back tears as she studied her image. The old work shirt and trousers didn’t exactly give a clue that she was a woman. He probably thought she wanted to look like a boy. Truth was, if she could console herself from the past, she’d be wearing something pretty right now.

  She blinked hard. What was wrong with her? He was just some silly man. Nobody she wanted to even know. So why had she kept thinking about him last night? Wondering what it was going to be like to have him in the store all day. And so far, she hadn’t thought of anything to talk about with him.

  She took a deep breath. He was just another store employee, like Mrs. Hamilton. He would be working there until he’d made enough to pay for all the damages he’d done two days ago.

  A smile crossed her lips. He had looked so funny sitting in the middle of the road, like a little boy that had tripped and spilled his bag of marbles and was too stunned to pick them up.

  She turned and smoothed the muslin sheets once more. No need for Uncle Wally to think she was slovenly if he happened to walk past the doorway. She stopped to check Mama’s trunk, nestled in the corner beside the bed. Top open, she paused to admire the flowers painted inside the lid. Her fingers slid across Mama’s sweet grass basket that she’d brought from Charleston, a gift from Mama’s employer when she had left to marry Papa. Inside was the lace Mama had made for Frankie’s wedding dress. A dress she would never have. She’d made her mind up about that. If she had to live a lie, it would be her own lie without involving anyone else.

  Beneath the lace were other crochet projects that she’d never finished. Frankie ignored the roll of lace and stared at the works in progress. She had promised to finish them for Mama, but it still seemed too hard to hold them in her hands knowing she was last to have held them and would never work on them again. And Papa’s Bible was in there, too, along with the ruby brooch that had belonged to his grandmother. Mama’s Godey’s Lady’s Magazine was ne
atly rolled and tied with a piece of yarn. Our ‘dream’ book, she had laughed, showing Frankie the prettiest dresses inside.

  Frankie carefully closed the trunk lid and checked the latch. Someday, when she and Charlie had their own home, she would have dresses like the women in the magazine wore. But no time for dreaming now. It was time to go to work.

  ***

  “Good morning,” Seth greeted her as she entered the store. He was busy arranging stoneware crocks on the shelf along the back wall. The shelf beneath them held the blue and white pitchers that Frankie had been admiring yesterday.

  She nodded and reached for one of the aprons hanging on the pegs just inside the storeroom door. Tying it carefully, she refused to look at him. He ought to be out on the sidewalk sweeping up dirt. That way everyone in town could see that he was paying for his damages.

  “Are you. . .I mean, are you and your brother doing alright?”

  She forced a thin smile at the concern in his voice. “We’re fine. Just like I told you yesterday.” She couldn’t help but add the last part. It wasn’t as if she was lying every time he asked if she’d been hurt.

  A pang of guilt pierced her side. She was being too harsh on him. He had admitted his fault in everything and was willing to work and amend for his deeds.

  “Guess I’ll go sweep in front of the store,” she said, grabbing the broom from the corner and escaping to the early morning air.

  ***

  Balanced on her knees, Frankie put another can of peaches on the lower shelf and adjusted it so that the label was facing out in perfect unison with the others in the row. Her finger traced the bright red lettering sprawled across the label. The pretty drawing of peaches tempted her to spend a bit of her hard earned money and share a can with Charlie after supper. The meals in Uncle Wally’s café were fine, but it felt strange eating in a room with so many people. She would resist for now. But Charlie deserved a treat now and then. And he would get one soon, even if it meant a small reduction in their savings.