Bartered Bride Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  Another growl, low and fierce and way too near, sent him onto the porch pronto.

  “What—?”

  “It’s wolves,” Bess yelled over the clanging. “After the cow.” Something bumped into him from behind. He jumped and felt like his heart jumped higher than he did.

  “What’s going on, Gideon?” a voice behind him asked.

  “Harry, what’re you doing here? Never mind. Stay put. Bess, stop that banging.”

  She didn’t. “I thought the sound might frighten them away.”

  Gideon grabbed the metal bar from her. “It’s going to frighten me away.” He shot off the rifle. There were soft thudding sounds out in the night and then silence.

  “They’re gone.” Bertie sounded surprised.

  “They’ll be back.” Gideon motioned toward the open back door where Walter stood, wide-eyed. “Get that dog inside. He’s no match for a pack of wolves. And bring me some lit kindling.”

  Bertie, Walter, and Harry together dragged Ramon inside.

  In the lantern light, Gideon could see Bess’s hair tumbling over her shoulders to her waist. He caught his breath at the sight.

  “What are you going to do with the kindling?”

  Her question brought him back to the present. “Wolves don’t like fire. But they like cows staked out like a dinner invitation.”

  “We haven’t a cow shed.”

  Business had kept him so busy, he’d forgotten his promise to build the shed. “We’ll take her to the jailhouse.”

  “What will Mr. Llewellyn and Mr. Potter say to that?”

  “I’m not planning to ask them. Where are the chickens? Did the wolves get them?”

  “No. We put the chicken crate on the roof at night to keep them from the wolves.”

  “Good idea.”

  Bess insisted on going with him to the jailhouse. She led the terrified cow while he carried the torch and rifle. They stopped at the well for a pail of water for the cow.

  “Are you sure the w–wolves will come back?” Bess asked on their way back to the house.

  “I’m sure. Once they find the cow gone, they’ll leave you alone. If it’ll make you more comfortable, I’ll stay at the house awhile.”

  “Don’t be silly. You need to get back to your business.” Her voice trembled in spite of her bravado.

  The tremble gentled his own tone. “Harry can handle things.”

  “If you’re sure—”

  The relief in her voice made him very sure.

  When they arrived back, Gideon sent Harry to the saloon, and Bess sent Walter and Bertie to bed. Then Bess and Gideon settled down in the parlor: Bess on the hope chest, Gideon leaning against the wall where he could see out the window, his rifle near at hand.

  His gaze drifted to Bess’s hair, where the lamplight played on it. “If you’d like to go to bed, I’ll keep watch.”

  Bess shook her head and drew her wool shawl more closely about her. “I’ll keep you company. How did you end up in Lickwind, Mr. Riker?”

  Only the Craig sisters called him Mr. Riker. It sounded strange but nice, too. Like the respectful way people addressed each other back East where he’d grown up. “Came out after the war.”

  “Is that how your eye was injured? In the war?”

  “Yes. After the war, my brother Stanley and I returned home to find our parents dead. Nothing to keep us in Virginia after that, so we headed to Oregon country.” He paused, remembering the journey, the excitement with which he and Stan set out, the trials along the trail, the way it ended.

  “Why did you stop here?”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Stan took sick. He’s buried along the Platte River Trail, along with thousands of others.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her fingers, soft and gentle like her voice, touched the back of his hand. He fought the desire to lift her fingers to his cheek, to bury his face in her neck, and comfort himself in her arms.

  “When I lost Stan, I lost the last person who mattered in my life. I ’bout went loco. I turned away from the wagon trail with my prairie schooner, not caring where I was going, not caring it was still Indian territory, not caring about anything. Came across Lickwind. It was just a spit-in-the-wind place then. I took up residence at a table in the saloon and tried to drink myself out of this life.” He gave a sharp laugh. “As you can see, I didn’t succeed.”

  “I’m glad.”

  He shot her a curious glance but didn’t pursue her statement. “As time passed, I pulled myself out of the bottle occasionally, but I never had a good reason to continue on to Oregon. People pretty much leave a man alone here, and that’s the way I like it. In ‘67, someone discovered gold at South Pass. The saloon owner here traded the saloon to me for my prairie schooner and a note. I was mighty mad at God for takin’ away my family. Sellin’ liquor seemed a good way to pay Him back. Then the Union Pacific came through. They had their own traveling saloon to keep the crew happy, but the men liked seeing a different place for a change. Made enough money off the crew to pay off the note on the saloon and buy lumber for my house.” He shrugged. “So that’s my story. War and the trek west—those things are hard on families.”

  “Yes,” Bess murmured.

  “You lose anyone in the war?”

  “No relatives. Friends.” She smiled a little sadly.

  “I’m sorry. Is that why you and your sisters didn’t marry back East?” The war had killed off a lot of young men and made it difficult for those who returned home to establish themselves enough to support a wife and family.

  “Perhaps to some extent.” Bess sighed deeply; then she sat up straighter and squared her shoulders. “Are you still angry at God?”

  He hadn’t asked himself that question for a long time. He considered it for a minute. “Not so much anymore. Now it’s more like I don’t care.”

  “But you still run the saloon.”

  He shrugged. “It’s the way I make my living. Man has to support himself. Besides, there’s lots of men hurting inside out here. They need a way to forget that hurt for a while. It’s the only way they can keep going. I listen to men’s troubles and provide them something to take the pain away for a while.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to give them something to help them get through their troubles so they can stand up again after life’s knocked them down?”

  “Be glad to offer something like that, but if such a thing exists, I don’t know what it is.”

  Bess stood up, her hair cascading down her back. Her gaze met his squarely. “God’s love, Mr. Riker. God’s unconditional love. Good night.”

  He watched her cross the parlor and climb the stairs. He wasn’t sure he believed God loved anyone. He sure didn’t know how God’s love could help a person get through losing everyone they cared about. Bess Craig might believe in God’s love, but to him, God’s love was nothing but words. Bess didn’t fall asleep immediately upon slipping into bed beside Bertie. Her thoughts remained on her discussion with Gideon and on God’s unconditional love. She recalled her conversation with Matty and Corrie after the church service in the saloon. She’d thought then God had brought them here to help change the hearts of Regina and the other women who worked for Margaret Manning. She still believed that. But she was beginning to believe God brought her to Lickwind to stretch her own soul as well.

  She’d thought women like Regina crude and ungodly, not as wounded people who didn’t know how to find God’s love.

  And Gideon Riker. She pictured his strong, lined face with a patch over one eye. She’d thought him rough and evil, tempting others with drink. Before tonight, she’d never considered he might be hurting and that, like Regina, he might not know how to reach out to God. But there was a tender spot in his heart. He’d taken in Walter; he looked out for her and Bertie; he had stood up for her and Regina against Doc Mitchel; and he wanted to help the men who came to his saloon to stop hurting inside.

  Maybe God brought her here to see people as souls He loved, as heart
s that needed healing.

  “Help Gideon and Regina, Lord,” she whispered into the night. “Help them find You, that Your love might heal their wounds and they might in turn be available to heal others. Amen.”

  When Gideon slid into bed hours later, after checking on the cow at the jailhouse one last time, he relived his conversation with Bess. He hadn’t thought about God or His love for a long time. Now he was surprised to realize he’d told Bess the truth. He wasn’t sure how he felt about God, but he wasn’t mad at Him anymore.

  He mentally kicked himself for getting involved with the Craig sisters. He’d rented them his house, protected them from bullets, attempted to protect Bess’s reputation, even forced Doc to apologize to one of Margaret’s girls, and now he was protecting a cow. Tomorrow—rather, later today—he’d build a shed he didn’t need. Something had to change.

  But later in his dreams, Bess Craig smiled up at him from the circle of his arms, her dark hair smelling sweetly of violets and framing her face in beauty; and before he woke, he promised to protect her forever.

  Bess glanced up from polishing the stove as Bertie came inside. Walter and Bertie had spent most of the day outside helping Gideon with the shed. Keeping Bertie in a kitchen was impossible when there was such work as building to help with. Bess had noticed Gideon waited until after her morning lesson with Regina was over before beginning the building.

  Bess shook her head in despair. Bertie’s scuffed boots were dustier than ever, her skirt covered with sawdust, and the sleeves of her blouse snagged. “I declare, Roberta Suzanne. Mama would think me a failure indeed in the raising of you were she to see you now.”

  Bertie looked down at herself. “For true, I don’t know why. They’re only clothes. Besides, Harry says men here would marry anything that got off the railroad.”

  “Bertie!”

  “Well, that’s what he said. He doesn’t understand why you haven’t married up already. Harry says—”

  Bess’s backbone stiffened. “My marriage preferences are none of his business. Nor yours.”

  “Grandmother’s bloomers, Bess, I’m only trying to be helpful.”

  “I’ve no intention of marrying at the moment.”

  “Then why did you come to Lickwind?”

  “To watch over you and your sisters. I’ll not marry until you’re safely and well a wife, so you can quit contemplating possible suitors for me.”

  “Harry says you shouldn’t be so off-putting. He says the men in town call you ‘Bossy Bess.’ ”

  Bess’s mouth sagged open. She snapped it shut. “Do they indeed? I should think, in that case, they’d be glad I’m not interested in them as suitors.”

  “Harry says once you’re married up, that’s bound to change. The bossy part, I mean.” Bess raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her apron. “Indeed?” Bertie nodded. “He says the right man will know how to tame you.”

  “Tame me?”

  “I told him no man could do that.”

  “Well, thank you.”

  “Only love can do that, the love of a woman for a man.”

  Bess’s anger turned to surprise. Perhaps little Bertie was becoming a woman after all beneath that unfeminine attire.

  Bertie glanced over Bess’s shoulder. The girl’s face brightened in a smile. “Hello,

  Mr. Riker.”

  Bess wanted to sink through the floorboards. How long had Gideon been standing in the doorway? Had he heard the entire disgusting, embarrassing conversation? She bit back a groan. Likely, he’d already heard the town’s feelings about her from liquor-loosened tongues in his establishment. Attempting to gather her shredded dignity, she pasted on a smile and turned to face him. “What can we do for you?”

  “Just wanted to let you know the shed and chicken coop are finished.”

  “Already? My, that was quick.” If he heard our conversation, he’s pretending he didn’t. Relief relaxed the muscles about her smile a bit.

  “Had good help.”

  Bess walked outside with him to see the outbuildings and complimented him on them. He gathered up his tools while she stepped into the shed. He was ready to leave when she came out. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you,” he said. He’d taken six steps before he turned around. “By the way, I agree.”

  “Agree?”

  “No man will ever tame you, Elizabeth Craig.” He winked, turned on his heel, and left the yard.

  “O-o-o-oh!” Bess stamped her foot. It made only an unsatisfying soft thud. “It’s time someone tamed you, Gideon Riker, and all of Lickwind.”

  Knowing the townsmen ridiculed Bess behind her back made it especially sweet when, within two weeks, two more of Margaret’s girls joined Bess and Regina for lessons. All three ladies paid for the teaching—only a pittance, but Bess began the work without expectation of pay, so she accepted it as a gift from God.

  Two more boys, Leonard and Jethro Smit, had joined Walter and Bertie in lessons at the house. Bess wasn’t about to expose the children to the saloon. Besides, Mr. Smit understandably didn’t want his boys near Margaret’s girls. Mr. Smit also paid Bess a small fee. Every little bit helped. But it was exhausting trying to keep up with all the schooling, the housework, and the Back Porch.

  Gideon kept close watch over the table where the women took their lessons. News had spread that he wouldn’t tolerate harassment of the group. Men gave the table a wide berth, though Bess was well aware they watched from a distance.

  Mr. Llewellyn, the banker, took up where Gideon left off, trying to convince Bess to give up teaching Margaret’s girls. “Be reasonable, Miss Craig. How will it look for the wife of an upstanding citizen of Lickwind to associate with … women of their character?”

  “I’m not the wife of any upstanding citizen.”

  “I’m hoping that will change.” He gave her a you-know-what-I-mean smile.

  Bess couldn’t honestly say his statement surprised her. He came around the Back Porch three times a day and overstayed his welcome each time, but this was the closest he’d come to openly stating his intentions. “You think that should entice me to give up teaching Miss Bently and the others?”

  “I should hope so.” He folded his hands over his stomach and rocked back on his heels. “And after all, what good will learning to read and write do any of them?”

  “What harm will it do them?”

  “Now, Miss Craig—”

  “Miss Bently wants to learn to read for a number of reasons—primarily so she can read the Bible one day. Does that sound like foolishness to you?” He spread his hands. “I’m sure that’s laudable, but—”

  “But not laudable enough for a wife of yours to continue associating with her? Are you afraid she’ll lead me into temptation?”

  He looked shocked she would say such a thing. “Of course not. But your reputation, my dear—”

  “I’ve not given you leave to address me by such an endearment. Do not do so again. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve baking to do.”

  She’d all but shoved him out of the house, her temper hotter than the perking coffee on the stove.

  But when he’d left, she stood looking out the parlor window at the back of the saloon. Was she right in continuing her work and so quickly dismissing Mr. Llewellyn and his offer? She didn’t like his attitude, but he was better able than most men to provide a home for her and Bertie. Was it unfair to Bertie to refuse the proposal at which he’d hinted, though she didn’t care a smidgen for the man? “Guide me, Lord,” she whispered.

  Chapter 9

  Gideon looked up from behind the bar on a hot June afternoon to see a contingent of surly-looking men enter the saloon. The group included most of the businesspeople in town plus a couple of ranchers: Llewellyn the banker, Potter the attorney, Amos the blacksmith, Jones from the general store, Squires the feedstore owner, the Hatch cousins, Josiah Temple, and weasely Clyde Kincaid. The only people not represented were Doc Mitchel, Margaret Manning, and Bess Craig. This did
n’t bode well.

  Might as well face it head-on—whatever it was. “Any of you gentlemen want a drink?”

  They all did. He poured their drinks then said, “Now that you’ve drunk your courage, what’re you here for?”

  Llewellyn cleared his throat. “It’s about the schooling going on in here.”

  More trouble for Bess. Gideon’s blood began to boil. Whatever these men wanted, he wasn’t going to make it easy for them. “You men want to join the class?”

  Llewellyn uttered an oath. “We want you to put a stop to it.”

  Gideon nodded slowly. “You find women learning to read and write offensive to your morals, do you?”

  Potter glared. “Women like that don’t need to know how to read and write.”

  “Do they need a reason to want to learn?” Gideon put a dirty glass in the tin pan beneath the bar.

  Oscar hitched at his trousers. “It don’t seem proper, women like that knowing more than a man.”

  Gideon crossed his arms over his chest. “If that’s what’s bothering you, I expect Miss Craig would let you join her class.”

  “Aw, Gideon.” Linus pushed his fingers through his hair. “We can’t even come in here for a drink anymore for fear of running into Miss Craig. Decent men don’t drink in front of God-fearin’ women.”

  Come to think of it, Gideon hadn’t seen much of this bunch in his saloon the last month. “She’s only in here an hour or so each morning.”

  Llewellyn slammed his fancy gray hat down on the bar. “Tell the women they can’t be holding their lesson here; that’s all we’re asking.”

  “You expect me to throw the women out forcibly? Any of you willing to do that?” Gideon looked from one face to another. “I thought not.” He rested his elbows on the bar. “But there is a solution.”

  Every face on the other side of the bar brightened.

  Gideon nodded. “Yup. We just need to build Lickwind a school.”