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

by Mary L. Briggs

In her heart Frankie knew she couldn’t keep loving a married man. It would solve everything if he and Violet would just get hitched. She half-smiled to herself. Maybe she should volunteer to help with the building. Anything to speed up Seth’s progress.

  Chapter 17

  The piece of flannel was soft and warm in her hands. The sunny yellow color was perfect for Missy and Jared’s new daughter. Frankie pulled a length of thread from the spool of green she’d purchased from the store. With a little stitching around the edges, it would make a pretty blanket.

  “That looks real nice, Frankie,” Charlie encouraged, his eyes watching each stitch she made. “The baby will like it a lot.”

  Frankie swallowed the laugh in her throat. “Well a two month old probably won’t know the difference. But maybe it will help keep her warm.” She glanced at him, amused to see his attention on such a mundane task. “Mama taught me how to make this pattern with the thread,” she told him. He was so young, he was in danger of forgetting Mama. Her sweet smile still ran through Frankie’s mind every day. But sometimes, it was hard to remember the sound of her voice. At first, it had seemed like she was still there with them.

  Chopping wood, a week after the funeral, she thought she heard her mother calling. Without thinking she ran into the cabin, only to find it empty. And sometimes she would think she caught a glimpse of her for a moment, sitting in her rocker, or watering her favorite flowers. And now, it hurt to know that her mother was starting to fade away from memory .

  “She was real good at sewing, wasn’t she?” he asked, reaching around and touching the pattern of fiber that ran along the edge.

  Frankie nodded as she finished the cotton strand. She knotted off the end, then pulled another length and threaded her needle. “She was a seamstress for a rich lady in a big house in Charleston. That’s where my papa met her. He was there to do a carpentry job for the owner of the house. She said they fell in love at first sight.”

  “Is that where she got the pretty basket where you keep your papa’s Bible?”

  She nodded. “It was a gift from the lady in the big house. She gave it to Mama when she left to get married.”

  Charlie was quiet for a while, watching the progress of Frankie’s work. “Do you think I’ll ever have a papa, Frankie?”

  Frankie stopped mid-stitch. A spasm of pain and fear spiked through her, stealing away the air in her chest. Numbness began to creep over her fingers and she put her work in her lap. Charlie’s father was the last thing she wanted to think about.

  She cleared her throat. “How about we take this out to the baby tomorrow afternoon? Seth said he would give us a ride.”

  Charlie squealed and jumped from the bed. “I’d better go find my fishing pole.”

  ***

  “Now be real gentle, you two,” Seth instructed the two boys, as he scooped the scurrying chick from behind the barn door. “This chick belongs to your mama’s favorite hen, Isaac. She won’t want to see those new feathers pulled out.”

  Charlie hesitated, then began to pet the dark-feathered bird. He looked up and smiled. “It’s soft. Just like angel wings!”

  Seth laughed. “And just how do you know the way angel wings feel?”

  Charlie shrugged and ran his fingers through the silky down. “Frankie has a pretty red feather that she used to let me touch. Said it was soft as the angel wings our momma has.”

  Seth stared at the small hands petting the bird. A child his age needed a mother. He remembered when his own had died. He hadn’t been much older than Charlie. Aunt Della had stepped in and raised him and Mark. But she had never taken away the ache in his heart from losing their mother.

  Charlie looked up at him. “Is your momma in heaven, too, Seth?”

  Seth gave a short nod and ignored the lump growing in his throat. It was as if Charlie knew what he was thinking.

  “Do you ever wish she was still here?” Charlie asked.

  Seth knelt and put the chick on the dirt floor of the barn. “I sure do, Charlie. But I had Aunt Della to take care of me when I was growing up. Just like you have Frankie.”

  The boy was quiet for a moment. “She does do a real good job. But I know it makes her sad that Mama isn’t with us anymore.”

  Isaac broke the moment by squealing. “Look! That mama hen is gonna get us!”

  Both boys took off at a run. Seth shook his head and laughed. But only for a moment. Charlie’s words still echoed in his mind.

  ***

  “She’s just the sweetest thing. And so pretty! Have you chosen a name?” Frankie asked, touching one of the many curls atop the tiny girl’s head. She’d never seen a baby with so much hair.

  “We have,” Missy nodded, settling the bundle in Frankie’s arms. “Annie Frances.”

  “Annie. . .Frances. I. . .I like it,” she managed to say. Surely they hadn’t. . .no, they wouldn’t have.

  Missy laughed. “Yes, we named her after you. She’ll always know who helped to get her safely into this world. We are forever grateful to you, Frankie McGregor.”

  Frankie stared at the sleeping infant and held her a little tighter. “I’ve never had anyone named for me before.” And if they knew the truth, they would have chosen another name.

  Missy took a seat in the rocker next to Frankie’s. “It was Jared’s idea. He says God couldn’t have sent anyone better to deliver his daughter.”

  Frankie bit her lip. All this praise was too much. She had just done what anyone would do. Missy had been the one doing all the work. “I’m just glad I could help.”

  “I guess Seth wants you to go up and look at the house while you’re out here.”

  Frankie kept her eyes on the tiny girl and tried to ignore the misery stirring inside of her. She didn’t want to discuss this subject with anyone, especially Missy, but she had to answer. It was if molasses coated her throat, forcing her to drag every word into her mouth. “I wish. . .I wish he would ask her to come look at it. Find out what it is she really wants.”

  Missy sighed and leaned back in her rocker. “Tell me honestly, do you think she will like the house? Do you think she. . .never mind.” She offered a weak smile.

  Frankie shrugged. “I don’t really know her very well. It’s a very nice house. Seth has done a wonderful job on it.”

  Every word was true. The little house atop the hill behind the ranch house was perfect in her eyes. She adored the hallway dividing the rooms downstairs and the doors at each end. In the hot summer time, both doors could be opened and a nice breeze would flow through the house. And the oak staircase would be so pretty when it was polished. It was the kind of house she could live in. But Seth loved Violet.

  “Yes, he’s spent a lot of time and money on it these past few months. I just worry. He‘s such a sweet young man and he’s worked so hard. I’m just not sure Violet. . .I don’t want to see him with a broken heart, ” Missy finished.

  “If she really loves Seth, it will all work out,” Frankie offered. She couldn’t look at Missy, lest she see the pain in her eyes at the thought of Violet living in the little house on top of the hill.

  Seth’s heart seemed just fine, but hers was slowly breaking every day. It would take his marriage to stop the pain she was feeling. She could never pine after a married man, she was sure of that.

  The front door of the house opened and Seth stepped inside. His eyes found her at once. “Are you ready?”

  Frankie sighed inwardly. Giving Seth advice seemed pointless. She had no idea what Violet liked and she was certain the girl wouldn’t be happy knowing Seth was consulting other women on what to do for her. Why didn’t he just ask her what she liked? It could save him a lot of heartache in the end.

  She stood and gave the sleeping infant to Missy. “Thank you for letting me hold her.”

  “You’ll be at the dance next Saturday night, won’t you?” Missy asked, folding the soft blanket closer around her yellow-haired daughter.

  Frankie nodded and touched the baby’s chubby cheek. “Yes. I
thought I might help with some of the serving.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Missy shook her head. “You’ll have too much fun dancing. It will be a night for fun. You work too much as it is.”

  Frankie shrugged. It had been almost six years since she’d danced. Boone Colter had been the best partner in Jasper Creek and she’d danced many a reel and waltz with him. She used to look forward to the moonlight dances held most of the spring and summer, planning what she would wear, hoping to dance with the best dancers. But Charlie being born had changed all of that. A girl with responsibilities didn’t have time for dances.

  Chapter 18

  She moved her fingers across the banister. Mark had worked so carefully when he carved the intricate flowers along the banister. Seth had sanded it to a smooth finish. No slivers of wood were going to mar Violet’s soft hands. All that was left was to finish it with linseed oil.

  “Be right there,” he called from the kitchen.

  She folded her arms across her chest and took a deep breath, taking in the clean smell of pine and oak. She could close her eyes and imagine this was her own new house. Walking to the open door, she stared out at the valley below. It was a view she could get used to.

  But it was wrong to think about. She and Charlie would have to make their own home someday, once she got some money saved. And when that time came, they would move far, far away from Seth Murphy.

  “Here it is,” he grinned as he returned, a large catalogue in his hand. “Take a seat on the steps and look at these with me. I‘ve been trying to pick out the right stove, but I’m just not sure which one.” He plopped down on the second step and patted the place beside him.

  Opening to a page he had marked, his finger pointed to a small Windsor model.

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure. I’ve never had my own stove before.” She’d only cooked on an open fire before coming to live with Uncle Wally. His cast-iron range was the first she’d prepared a meal on. There was an art to making cornbread over a fire, but nothing could be better than using a real oven. She hoped never to be without one again.

  “Does Violet like to cook?” She shouldn’t ask, but wondered if Seth had even considered the question.

  He gave her a brief glance, then turned back to the book. “I haven’t really heard her say.” He pointed to one at the top of the page. “Do you think just starting with this basic Grand Windsor would be alright? The catalogue says they are the best stoves you can buy.”

  Sitting so close to him, his voice soft in her ear as he leaned toward her, sent tingles down her arm. She’d like to scoot away, but the staircase was narrow and standing would seem rude. She would just have to bear the situation until he was finished showing her his choices.

  “I suppose they all cook the same,” she answered, staring at the variety on the page. Some were so large they probably wouldn’t fit in the small room Seth had built for the kitchen. And what did one do with all those pots and gadgets that seemed to be advertised next to the ranges?

  She gave him a brief smile. He was so earnest, doing his best to please the girl that he loved. Would Violet ever appreciate all the work he had done? Any woman would be blessed to have a man that loved her so much.

  Maybe Missy’s worries were for nothing. It was possible that Violet was the girl God had for Seth. He didn’t seem to have any doubts. Right now his only worry seemed to be getting his love something decent to cook on.

  “I think you’re right,” he agreed. “And if I save money on the stove, I’ll be able to purchase a parlor suit for the other room. I know Violet would like to start off with everything finished and new.”

  She swallowed hard. The parlor. It was her favorite room. The limestone fireplace was beautiful and the carved mantel Mark had created gave the room a special touch. Seth had even ordered wallpaper to cover the boards in that room. No doubt the two of them would sit in front of the fire at night, dreaming about their new life together. The twinge in her heart was hard to ignore.

  “Seems it costs a lot to get a household started.” She gave a weak smile. The items he’d shown her had added up to more money than she’d thought of.

  He checked his page marker and shut the catalogue. “Well, I’ll only be working at the store two days a week after Saturday. Rob Hilton’s hiring me four days a week over at the sawmill, so that’ll be some more cash for me. I’m going to do my best to get this place finished before fall.”

  Only two days a week? She was going to miss him. And he was surely pushing himself to have two jobs and work on the house. “I guess it won’t be long until you propose.”

  He shrugged. “I just want everything to be perfect before I do. And thank you for the advice,” he grinned. “I’d ask Violet, but I want everything to be a surprise for her. I know she. . .well, she loves me, but I want her to think she’s marrying a successful rancher that will be able to support her and give her nice things.”

  He stood and held out his hand to her. “Guess I’d better get you and Charlie home.”

  Chapter 19

  The dress was draped across the bed. She crossed the room slowly and lowered herself to the mattress. The green fabric was soft beneath her fingertips, the pearl buttons shiny and smooth. She had spent the week holding her breath every time a woman even glanced at the dresses.

  “Well, are you going to try it on?”

  She stood and whirled around. “Uncle Wally!”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I think you pretty well claimed it the minute you unwrapped it.”

  She put her hands behind her, fingers intertwined. “I. . .I don’t think I’ve earned quite enough to pay for it.” Not that it mattered. She couldn’t afford to spend her money on anything so frivolous. Charlie already needed a new pair of boots.

  His kind eyes softened and he came forward. His hand rested on her shoulder. “I’m not selling it to you, Frankie. It’s a gift. I want you to have it.”

  Astonishment swam through her thoughts. “A. . .gift? But. . .”

  He shook his head. “But nothing, young lady. You and Charlie are my own flesh and blood. I can afford to be a little generous with you sometimes.”

  She forced a smile to her lips. “I. . .I don’t know what to say. I mean, it’s beautiful and. . .thank you. Thank you, Uncle Wally.”

  “No. Thank you, Frances McGregor. I didn’t realize how lonely my life was until you and Charlie came to live with me. I want you both to know how much I care for you. And this dress is just a small token of my true feelings for the two of you.”

  Frankie blinked back the tears behind her eyelids. She shook her head. “I should be the one doing the thanking. You took me and Charlie in when you didn’t even know us. You’ve boarded us, and fed us, and. . .and. . .”

  “Frankie,” his calloused fingers smoothed back her hair. “I mean to make you and Charlie happy just as long as I have you with me.”

  She swallowed hard. “Are you. . .planning on moving or something?”

  He laughed. “No. I’m just thinking that as pretty as you’re going to be in that dress at the dance tonight, some young man’s going to sweep you off your feet and take you away from me.”

  Frankie sighed with relief. If that was all he was worried about. . . . “There’s no danger of that, Uncle.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure,” he smiled, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now get on down to the storeroom and pick out a pair of shoes. You can’t dance in those work boots.”

  ***

  Frankie gazed up, staring at the strings of lanterns lit around the old barn. Light glowed below the ceiling under the huge loft area and from lanterns hung on posts and even some on the walls. The many doors leading outside, were wide open, allowing in the cool air left by the late afternoon shower.

  She had never seen so much light at night. The folks in Chance must have plenty of money to be burning so much oil at one time.

  “There you are.” Missy’s fingers closed around her arm and pulled her toward
the refreshment table. “And don’t you look pretty. That dress is perfect for you!”

  Frankie blushed at the compliment and smoothed the pleats in the skirt. “It was a gift from Uncle Wally.”

  “Well I’ll say the man has good taste,” Missy smiled. “All the young men will be wanting to dance with you.”

  Frankie shook her head and led the conversation elsewhere. “You look nice, too.” Missy’s blond hair, pulled back and held with two combs, shone like gold in the soft light. The red skirt she wore hung straight and even over her leather riding boots. The red silk ribbon tied under the collar of her white blouse brought out the rosy color in her cheeks. No one would know she’d given birth just eight weeks ago and spent almost two weeks in bed with a fever.

  Missy smiled. “Thank you. I’m finally feeling more like myself. I’ll admit that I was starting to tire of never leaving the house. Little Annie Frances has been sleeping more and I’ve had some rest, so tonight is a nice break and Aunt Della is pleased to stay with her alone. Have you danced with anyone, yet?”

  Frankie swallowed hard. Nerves flitted up her spine. She shook her head. “No. I’m not sure I’ll be doing much dancing. I thought I might help out with the food. . .or something like that.” She tried her best to sound hopeful. The thought of having a strange man hold her in his arms and sweep her across the floor was hard to deal with. What if she panicked and pulled away or made a fool of herself by running out of one of the many doors? Everyone would think that she had lost her sanity. It would be best to just observe the dancing.

  Missy frowned. “You’re too young for this job, Frankie. You need to get out there with the younger people. Get to know everyone.”

  Frankie shrugged and stared at the activity in the middle of the barn. The fiddler was playing Arkansas Traveler, and couples, eyes only on each other, kept up with the calls from Mel Wilkins as they danced across the hard dirt floor. Her eyes rested on Seth and Violet. He was laughing and Violet’s cheeks were rosy from the exertion of the dance. Her pink dress looked like it was made especially to suit her. No doubt she was the prettiest girl there.