Hazelanne (Widows of Wildcat Ridge Book 15)

by Linda Carroll-Bradd

  Hazelanne

  The Widows of Wildcat Ridge

  Western Historical Romance

  Linda Carroll-Bradd

  Copyright © 2019 by Linda Carroll-Bradd

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Cover by Charlene Raddon, www.silversagebookcovers.com

  Author’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout © 2017 BookDesignTemplates.com

  DEDICATION

  To the women who came before the current generation in our lineage who had the good sense to realize that in order to survive, on occasion they had to be more practical than romantic. Although love usually develops.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Thanks to the other authors of The Widows of Wildcat Ridge who helped build the people and events of this story world. Working together has been fun and instructional.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Disclaimer

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Thank you for reading Hazelanne

  Other Widow of Wildcat Ridge Books

  Other Books by Linda Carroll-Bradd

  About Linda Carroll-Bradd

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Evanston, Wyoming

  Early March, 1884

  H

  azelanne Pitts waved her goodbye toward the kind storeowner. “Remember, soak your foot in Epsom salt twice a day. I hope that bunion feels better soon, Missus Hardesty.” Then she stepped through the door of the mercantile. Cold air hit her face, and she tugged the knit scarf over her mouth. She braced herself for the five-block walk down Evanston’s main street to the group of houses occupied by Union Pacific employees. Tucking her chin close to her chest, she tightened her grip on the plaid shawl covering her shoulders. A brisk wind from the north swirled dirt into the air. She hesitated on the boardwalk’s top step to see if the wind would settle.

  A pat on her reticule and the resulting crinkle of an envelope provided her only warmth. The man in Wildcat Ridge answered her response to his ad for a wife. If his letter contained what she hoped, she’d better hurry teaching her next youngest sister, Linnea, how to cook an entire meal, not just one dish.

  Finding a husband by using the Matrimonial News was certainly different than how Mama and Papa met. But her best friend, Lydia McDouglas, found her match by responding to an ad and became Missus James Sterling three months ago. Lydia’s last letter from Salt Lake City brimmed with such happiness that Hazelanne decided to give the weekly newsletter a second look. She hadn’t dared to take out her own weekly subscription. In a house filled with eight people, she would never have kept it secret. Instead, she asked to look at Widow Schumaker’s copy when she delivered the tatted handkerchiefs Mama made.

  Another gust lifted the edge of her hem, and she ran down the wooden steps. The cold air cut right through her clothes and chilled her skin. Thin, wispy clouds scuttled across the sky, but thankfully they didn’t look like they held any more snow. Hoping this year’s Wyoming Territory winter was over in mid-March didn’t make sense, but an early spring had to happen sometime. Like her bestomor used to say, hope is free. Although her beloved Grandma Odell had been gone for three years, she missed her smiling face and happy laughter every day.

  In the distance, the dismissal bell rang from the direction of the schoolhouse.

  Knowing she needed to be home to greet her siblings, she increased her pace, even if the cold air bit at her nose and throat. If the laundry was dry, they could bring it in, and she’d get help from the younger one folding it before she started supper preparation. Giving them tasks helped keep down their natural boisterousness which often proved too much for their invalid mother.

  Turning the corner onto Harrison Drive, she spotted the children traipsing along. Hazelanne well remembered the excitement of being released from hours in the classroom. Maybe she shouldn’t have lingered in conversation with Missus Hardesty. But moments of her own choosing were rare, and she’d indulged in learning a bit of the latest news. As usual, the third step squeaked and moved under her foot. Frowning, she glared at the loose board. She’d asked Axel to take care of that problem two days ago.

  As soon as she stepped through the front door, she heard Mama’s voice.

  “Is that you, Hazelanne? What took so long? You know how much I need my Phillips’?”

  “Yes, Mama. I’m here.” She removed her shawl, scarf, and coat and hung them on the wall pegs. From the threadbare coat’s deep pocket, she removed the blue bottle of milk of magnesia. The patent medicine was the only remedy that settled her mother’s stomach. Hazelanne had already exhausted all the cheaper cures. “Let me get a spoon for the kitchen, and I’ll be right there.” Walking past the sitting room davenport, she straightened the quilt lying along the back cushion.

  Pasting on a smile, Hazelanne walked into her parents’ dimly lit bedroom. She’d given up making suggestions to keep the curtains opened and let in the sunshine. The matching heavy wooden bedstead, armoire, and bureau made the room appear darker. Papa was proud of the pieces made by his grandfather as a wedding present for his parents and brought on the ship when they emigrated. She measured and administered the dose.

  Mama sighed and lay back on the pillow. “You were gone long enough to have walked to Chinatown and back.”

  The lament was one she’d heard enough times not to take seriously. She smoothed a hand over the pillow slip and tucked the flower basket quilt tighter around Mama’s side. “I know my absence probably seemed longer than it was.” Mama had been so pretty, evidenced by her prized, gilt-framed wedding photo. But living with chronic dyspepsia had etched lines around her mouth.

  “You’re still wearing your hat.” Olga glanced up and wrinkled her brow. “Take it off in the house. Don’t bring us back luck.”

  Knowing any type of retort would be interpreted as defiance, she lifted her hands, loosened the hat pin, and removed the small black bonnet. Bought secondhand years ago at a church sale, the small-brimmed hat had seen better days. The style was at least five years old, and the decorative silk flowers drooped. “Yes, Mama. Bringing you the medicine was more important. Now, I’ve got to collect the dry clothes. The children are on their way home.”

  “Send in Linnea to read to me for a spell.”

  Her plans were already unraveling, and she hadn’t found a single free moment to read her letter. She fought not to reveal her exasperation. “I hoped she could help me with preparing supper. What about if I send in Rania?”

  Shaking her head, Mama picked at the hem of the quilt. “Her pronunciation is faulty, and her pacing is horrible.”

  “Exactly why she needs to practice. You’d be helping her with improving her skills.” Nine-year-old Rania did struggle a bit with her reading.

  “But I do so enjoy Linnea’s style.”

  “Mama, please.” Her words came out sharper than she intended. But now that her time here at home might be lim
ited, she needed to make the most of each opportunity. “With both of us at the stove, I can bring in your broth and bread sooner.” She glanced at her mother’s mulish expression and gripped a hand on the headboard. “Papa does appreciate having his supper ready right after he walks in the door.”

  “Oh, all right.” Mama heaved out a sigh, clasped her hands together, and closed her eyes.

  The well-known gesture that let Hazelanne know she’d displeased her mother once again and had been dismissed. But one problem was solved. Hazelanne breathed out a sigh as she carried the medicine into the kitchen and stored it on a high shelf. She’d learned the hard way that leaving the bottle on the nightstand meant the medicine disappeared twice as fast.

  The children would be here any moment. With longing, she glanced across the house at her gray wool coat and, instead, wrapped the blanket shawl they kept near the back door around her shoulders. She lifted the flat wicker basket from the wall nail and dashed outside. The shawl was better than nothing, but by the time she’d gathered the last of the dry clothing and sheets, she couldn’t control her chattering teeth.

  Both doors opened at the same time and sent a whoosh of cold air inside.

  Hazelanne set the basket mounded with clean-smelling clothes on the table and moved into the sitting room. “Well, how was school today?”

  “Sis, you ask us that every day.” Twelve-year-old Erich tossed his books onto the davenport.

  “Because every day I want to know if you learned something interesting.” When she was young enough to attend, she’d loved school. After finishing eighth grade, she’d hoped to receive advanced instruction from the teacher at the time, Miss Byrne. Maybe even go to a college to get her teaching certificate. But that was the year when Mama’s stomach pains worsened, and the responsibility of running the household fell to Hazelanne.

  Kneeling in front of her youngest brother, she helped the six year old unbutton his coat. “Knut, where are your mittens?” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. As she asked, she tried not to think of the hours she’d spent knitting those mittens that had been his Christmas present.

  The blond boy looked down at his hands and shrugged. “At my desk, I guess.”

  “Do hunt for them tomorrow, sweet boy. You’re just getting over a cough.” She tugged off the coat sleeves then ruffled his hair as she stood. “Now, line up and go greet Mama. Tell her one thing from your day.” Silently, she added, preferably a happy event. By the time she’d matched scarves and hats with coats on the pegs, she spotted Erich ambling toward the kitchen and hurried to cut him off.

  “I’m starved.” After lifting the lid to the pot on the stove, he opened the icebox and looked inside. “What can I eat?”

  The scent of cooking meat filled the air. Hazelanne glanced over her shoulder. “I can only spare a couple of biscuits from breakfast. But don’t let the others see.” She pulled back a cloth covering a tin plate. “Take them. Then go to the shed and get a hammer and some nails to fix the second porch step. Please.”

  “You told Axel to do that chore.” He took a big bite of dry biscuit. “I heard you.” The last words produced a shower of white crumbs. Wide-eyed, he clamped a hand over his mouth.

  “Axel is busy with his job at the butcher shop and probably forgot. But you’re old enough to handle the task. Besides, the meat he earns for our meals is very much needed.” Narrowing her gaze, she looked straight into his green eyes across the two-foot space between them. When had he matched her in height? She braced hands on his shoulders and turned him toward the front door. “Go and consider the chore as your way of earning that snack.”

  Then she turned to see her sisters exiting Mama’s bedroom. “Please help me, girls, with folding the laundry.” She ignored the eye rolls and instead got them talking about their day. The chore was finished before Linnea completed her story about the game of hide and seek played at recess. “Rania, Mama asked you to read before supper.”

  “But I wanted—”

  Frowning, Hazelanne held up a hand. “Twenty minutes or a chapter, whichever comes first.”

  Taking small steps, fourteen-year-old Linnea edged toward the girls’ bedroom door.

  “Tonight, Linnea, you’ll take the lead on preparing the spätzle and help me chop vegetables for the gulasch sauce.”

  “I’ve never made the dish by myself.” Linnea grabbed the back of a chair, her eyes wide.

  “Now is a wonderful time to learn. You’ve seen me do it hundreds of times.” The egg noodles represented a staple in the household and were served at least three times a week. Censoring herself, she refrained from reminding her sister that she’d been responsible for meals—and the laundry, mending, and cleaning—by herself when she was about Linnea’s age. As oldest, her experience would always be different. “I’ll walk you through the measurements.” The letter she’s transferred to her dress pocket crinkled and the urgency to read it grew. “When I get back from visiting the privy, we’ll start. You should probably have pencil and paper ready.”

  This time, she grabbed her coat and then headed to the back of the property. Before she went inside, she leaned against the back wall and inspected the cramped writing of her name and address. He’d left off the ‘e’ on the end of her name. Then she tore open the envelope flap. Inside were a piece of paper with only four lines of writing and a rectangular pre-printed ticket. For a second, she pressed the papers to her chest and closed her eyes. He accepted me. Then she opened her eyes and scanned the letter.

  Hazelann, I like your age and your stated abilities. I need a cook and a housekeeper to set my cabin straight. Here’s a stagecoach ticket for next week. Don’t disappoint me. Clay Oliphant.

  Disappointment sagged her posture. She restrained the urge to flip over the paper to see if more details were on the back. He didn’t even spell my name right. No matter, she had her answer, and now she had to make plans.

  A few minutes later, she stood at the counter, chopping carrots and celery. “Linnea, have you thought any about what you want to do once you finish with school in a few months?”

  “Not too much. I’m looking forward to sleeping in, I can tell you that.”

  If her parents approved this mail-order marriage, then that circumstance wouldn’t happen. Hazelanne fought against displaying her doubt. “Well, Axel went to work right after he graduated. Papa says as soon as he turns sixteen in July, Union Pacific will hire him. Maybe Mister Griswald will take on Erich in Axel’s place.” Then if Linnea hired on with a seamstress or at one of the other stores in town, the family would get along fine without the eldest daughter.

  “Why are you worried about the summer? Are these carrots the right size?”

  “Cut them in half again. So, they can cook faster.” She hesitated then decided to tell Linnea the truth. The girl had to learn it sooner than later. “And they’ll look more plentiful in the gulasch.” Every day was a battle to stretch Papa’s salary and the cuts of meat Axel brought home to feed eight mouths. The teen boys were always hungry, and she couldn’t stand the disappointed looks when the pot was scraped clean. She’d already taken in her dresses twice in the past year because she often feigned being full to offer them a few more mouthfuls.

  “Now for the spätzle.” Hazelanne watched with approval as Linnea measured the flour, salt, pepper, and a pinch of nutmeg then beat the eggs and added them alternately with the milk. “Soon, you won’t need the measuring spoon. You’ll judge by the amount in your cupped palm.”

  Linnea flashed a smile over her shoulder before returning to the process of pressing the dough through the large sieve.

  As she watched her sister move through the steps of batch cooking the noodle dumplings, Hazelanne relaxed and patted her sister’s shoulder. The household would struggle at first following her departure, but Linnea had the ability to step into her role.

  After the meal was over and the dishes clean and put away, Hazelanne walked to the doorway to her parents’ bedroom. She clasped her hands at
her waist to keep them from trembling. Papa sat bedside, reading from a book as Mama lay with her eyes closed. “Excuse me. May I come in?”

  Papa removed his spectacles and nodded his head of wavy brown hair. “Of course, Hazelanne.”

  Mama angled her head and opened her eyes. “Something wrong?”

  She turned and closed the door then walked to the footboard. “No, nothing’s wrong. I have exciting news.” At least, she hoped they would receive it as such. “I have received an offer of marriage.”

  “From whom?” Papa set aside the book and leaned his elbows on his knees.

  “But you can’t leave.” Mama gripped the quilt in both fists. “What will become of m–the family?”

  Hazelanne took a deep breath and hoped she wouldn’t offend her beloved Papa. “You both know how we’ve struggled to put enough food on the table since the boys are growing so fast. Axel, especially. And when he starts working for the railroad, he’ll require even more.” She glanced between her parents’ shocked faces. “I followed Lydia’s example and contacted a man looking for a wife through the Matrimonial News. My response came today along with a stagecoach ticket.”

  “A mail-order bride newspaper?” Papa stood and paced, running a hand over his chin. “But how do you know anything about this man? Did you exchange correspondence that you kept hidden?”

  She thought of the details included in the original advertisement. “His name is Clay Oliphant. He owns a sheep ranch in northern Utah Territory and works part-time in a gold mine. So, a man of property should be a good match, right? Please may I have your blessings?”

  “Where does he live? Utah Territory is large.” Mama frowned.

  “In a town called Wildcat Ridge that is not too far away on the Wells Fargo route, so I’m told.” Neither looked convinced. She reached forward to hold onto the carved footboard. “Linnea has only three more months of school and is older now than I was when I took over the household. I’m past marriageable age, and you can’t deny that having one less mouth to feed will help the family budget.”