Reluctant Brides Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  Her tears spent, she fell into a twilight doze. And suddenly came full awake. It was the same feeling she had last night.

  She scooted off the bed and lunged for the door. This time she didn’t have to sashay around in the dark. She was going to find out who was doing this.

  She flew into the kitchen and skidded to a halt, almost nose to nose with Barry. He held the broom.

  “What’s gotten into you?” he asked, his voice gruff. “You chasing a rabbit?”

  Her cheeks flamed. “I thought I heard something.”

  Heavy sarcasm colored his reply. “You did. I shut the door.” His expression creased. “Say, you’re white as a ghost. What’s wrong? You getting sick, too?”

  “No.” She said it a little too loud. “I thought I heard someone downstairs—that’s all.” She moved to the washtub and picked up a white shirt.

  Still holding the broom, Barry reached for the door latch. “You’re getting strange. You know that, Angie?” He lifted the broom. “I’m going to sweep out our bunk room, if that’s all right with you.”

  Angie stared at him and didn’t respond. She was too wrought up to deal with Barry’s cynical comments. She may as well let them pass.

  When he left, she dipped the shirt into the warm water and rubbed it slowly across the ridges of the scrubbing board. Maybe she was imagining things.

  Trying to turn off her skittish thoughts, she worked steadily until time to get lunch for the men. They came in half an hour late.

  “May I help you with something this afternoon, Miss Angie?” Hans asked when he’d finished two roast beef sandwiches. “I’d like to polish the fireplace for you if you don’t have anything else you’d like me to do.”

  Angie hesitated. She felt uneasy at being alone with Hans in the house all afternoon.

  “I’m going to work on that halter I’m plaiting for Lane,” Barry said. “Would you mind if I sit by the fireplace in here?”

  Angie let out her pent-up breath. “That would be fine, Barry,” she said, giving him a radiant smile.

  He looked at her, uncertain. Still watching her, he stood and pushed in his chair. “I’ll–I’ll fetch my horsehair in the barn.” He turned away to open the door, looked back at Angie once more, and went out.

  “I can help you with the dishes first,” Hans said, gathering plates from the table.

  “Uh—thank you, Hans,” Angie said. She moved as though in a hurry, avoiding his gaze. “The polishing cloth and linseed oil are in the pantry,” she told Hans when Barry returned. “You can find it.”

  Hans’s head bobbed, and he disappeared behind the pantry door. Within three seconds he returned with the supplies in his hands and left the kitchen.

  As soon as he left, Angie’s heart rate slowed to normal. She rinsed her dishpan and flung the water over the porch railing into the yard. So far Hans’s promise of a kitchen drain hadn’t materialized.

  The afternoon passed with Angie finishing up the men’s overalls and socks, her least favorite part of washday. When the last of them were on the line, she trudged to the living room to sit by the fire. Her hands were red and chapped with cold from hanging clothes on the line. Her nose felt numb.

  The men inside sat in cozy silence. Hans had his nose inches from the gleaming mantel, his hand working in rhythmic strokes. Barry sat in a chair nearby, his fingers working the tight braid and stopping now and then to slide on some beads. He looked up when Angie came to the door.

  She spoke first. “I’m finished with the wash, and I thought I’d sit down for a few minutes.”

  “Help yourself,” Barry said, nodding to the chair across from him. “I’m enjoying the Christmas tree. See the way the firelight shines on the ornaments?”

  “You’re not the only one enjoying it,” Hans said. “This is the best Christmas I’ve had since my wife passed on.” He turned to smile at Angie, his cheeks glowing red from the warmth of the fire. “Welcome, Miss Angie. Come in. Sit down and rest your weary bones.”

  Angie sank into the chair and sighed. “It’s been a long day.” She passed a hand across her brow. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “I didn’t either,” Hans said. “In the middle of the night, I came inside the house to get a glass of milk. My mother used to give us milk when we couldn’t sleep.” He glanced at Angie. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  Angie turned to look him full in the face. “Was that you I heard?”

  “I’m afraid so.” He looked sheepish. “I’m terribly sorry to disturb you. Please forgive me.”

  “That’s fine,” Angie said, leaning back in the chair and closing her eyes. “I’m just glad to know it was you and not a spook.”

  Barry chuckled. “Since when do we have spooks?”

  Angie didn’t laugh. Since when indeed.

  Greeted by Tip’s happy barks, Lane’s buggy rumbled into the ranch yard late that afternoon. Weary at heart, Angie continued setting the table.

  Saundra swept into the room, her complexion blooming from cold and excitement. “You must come upstairs and see what we bought,” she said, setting an armful of brown-wrapped packages on the end of the table so she could take off her wraps. “Quick, before Judy comes in. She stayed outside to toss a stick for Tip.”

  Angie came along quietly. Inside the room Saundra took a second look at her. “Are you feeling well? You look flushed.”

  “I’m fine. What did you want to show me?”

  Laughing brightly, Saundra pulled at the brown cord tying the biggest package. “I should have taken your word for it, Angie, when you said Lane would forget to be shy after awhile. He’s perfectly charming.” She drew the paper away and handed Angie a bundle of pink wool challis, a fine light cloth.

  “For Judy?” Angie asked, feeling the soft fabric.

  “Lane asked me to make her a dress like they wear in the city these days.” She pulled a sheaf of newsprint from another package. “I bought this from the shopkeeper’s wife for a penny.” She handed her a month-old copy of Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper. “I thought it would give us some ideas.”

  Sinking into a chair, Angie opened the paper, supper forgotten. “Are they really wearing short dresses with bloomers in public?” she asked, shocked at the drawing before her.

  “Not many people do, but I saw a few back East.”

  Turning a page, Angie held the paper toward Saundra so she could see too. “This one looks nice. A wide collar and the waist coming down to a point in front.” She looked up. “Can you show me how to make that kind of waist?”

  Judy’s voice called up the stairs. “Angie! Where are you?”

  “We’ll start tonight after she’s in bed,” Saundra promised, taking the newspaper from her.

  “Oh dear, I forgot to put supper on the table. I hope the roast isn’t overdone.” Angie laid down the fabric and headed out of the room. “Here I am, Judy,” she called, closing the door behind her.

  Barry waited in the kitchen when Angie arrived. “Where’s Saundra?” he asked.

  “She’ll be down in a few minutes.” Angie opened the oven and pulled out a roasting pan filled with beef and potatoes. Rising steam blasted her cheeks and made her draw back.

  He hovered around the doorway, watching the stairs. “There you are, Saundra,” he said at last. “I was wondering if you have time to walk to the barn with me. There’s something I’d like to show you.”

  Saundra glanced at Angie. “Do you need my help?

  “Go ahead,” she said, spooning potatoes out of the pan and piling them into a bowl. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”

  Saundra reached for her cape, but Barry quickly lifted it for her and wrapped it around her shoulders. After she buttoned up, he offered his arm.

  “Well, aren’t you the gentleman today?” she asked with a teasing smile.

  “Today and every day.” He cast a sly glance at Angie then smiled widely at Saundra.

  Angie saw his glance. What was he trying to do, make her jealous
? When he opened the door, a cold blast of wind swept through the room. Angie hardly felt it. She was boiling inside. Barry had done that to make her mad. He acted so childish sometimes.

  When Lane came inside, Angie’s first impulse was to tell him about her experience the night before, but she held back. Hans had already admitted that he had been in the kitchen. Telling Lane about it might simply get Hans dismissed. Angie didn’t want that to happen. She thought that Hans was telling her the truth about why he’d been in the house, and she was afraid that Lane might not see it that way.

  One question kept bothering Angie, though. If Hans had been in the kitchen to get some milk, why had he drunk it in the dark? When she’d looked into the kitchen, she had seen no candle or lantern there. Did Hans have the eyes of an owl?

  Chapter 15

  The next morning Angie got a jolt when she came downstairs and found Lane and Saundra with their heads together in the hall. She caught a couple of whispered words as she passed.

  An expression of suppressed excitement on his face, Lane asked, “What do you think?”

  “Wonderful!” Saundra replied with a quick nod and brilliant smile.

  Forcing herself to move away, Angie’s mind replayed the snatch of conversation. She crossed the kitchen—pushing up her sleeves—poured scalding water into the metal dishpan, and added a little cold water to it, trying to keep her mind off the couple in the hallway.

  A few minutes later, Lane helped Saundra into her cape. They crossed the yard talking excitedly with Tip sniffing at their heels. Heartsick, Angie watched through the window until they disappeared into the barn.

  Lane and Saundra were still inside the barn when Barry returned from driving Judy to school. He unhitched the horses, led them to their stalls, and then strode to the house, white gusts puffing from his mouth with every step.

  “Where’s Saundra?” he asked Angie.

  “In the barn. She and Lane went out half an hour ago.”

  His brow creased, and he glanced out the window as though expecting to spot them through the weathered walls across the yard. “I just came from there. I didn’t see them.”

  She shrugged and turned away.

  “Have you got any coffee?” he asked. “I’m frozen.”

  “There’s still some in the pot. Help yourself.” She kept her back to him, deftly drying dishes and stacking them in the cupboard.

  He poured the last of the strong brew and set the pot on the back of the stove, moving again to the window. “What are they doing out there?”

  “Why don’t you go and see, if you’re so worried?” His fretting was getting on Angie’s nerves.

  Still wearing his coat and hat, Barry finished his coffee close to the warm stove, circling to the window every few minutes. Suddenly he clanged his tin cup to the table. “There she is.” He jerked the door open and banged it shut behind him.

  A minute later he returned with Saundra at his side. Her hand on his arm, she laughed. “Don’t you have chores today?”

  “I’ll be finished by noon. Lane doesn’t want to do any more logging until after the holidays.”

  “Well, after lunch I guess I could play one game with you.” She patted his arm, a teasing slant to her eyes. “Now run along. I’ve got lots to do.”

  Grinning, he pulled his hat lower in front and strode outside.

  Saundra gave Angie a woman-to-woman look. “I hope you don’t mind, Angie.”

  “Why should I mind? Barry and I were never right for each other. I’m just glad I found out before the wedding.”

  Saundra pulled at the fingertips of her gloves and put them into the pocket of her cape. “I’m going right upstairs to get that challis fabric.” She hung the cape by the door. “If you’re finished, we can cut Judy’s dress out, no?”

  “That’s what I thought, too.”

  Swishing her dishcloth in hot, soapy water, Angie shooed those pesky men-worries to the back of her mind. Only two days of school left before Christmas break. After that there would be no chance to work on Judy’s dress during the day without giving away the surprise. Working quickly, Angie scrubbed the already-clean tabletop and dried it with a vengeance.

  That evening and every evening for more than a week, Angie lingered downstairs after the others retired, hoping to have another chat with Lane. Unfortunately, he worked outside too late for her to see him. Each morning after breakfast he and Saundra would stroll across the yard and disappear behind closed doors, sometimes for more than an hour.

  “They’re locked in the tack room,” Barry said, pacing in the kitchen.

  “Have you asked Lane what they’re doing?” Angie asked, trying not to laugh at his agitation as she kneaded a pearly lump of bread dough. “They must be working on some kind of Christmas project. What else would they be doing?”

  “He won’t tell me. I mentioned it to him three days ago, and he ignored me. Saundra won’t tell either.”

  “Don’t you think you’re making a problem out of nothing?”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust Lane with Saundra.” He flicked strong fingers through his shaggy hair and sighed. “You’re the last person I should be talking this over with, Angie.”

  She gave the dough a hard push with the heels of her hands. “We used to be friends, Barry.”

  He flung himself into a chair. “Saundra’s different from any girl I’ve ever met.”

  “Lane seems to think so, too.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Angie clamped her lips shut.

  “Oh, you’ve noticed it, too, huh?” He sat up straighter, watching her face for clues.

  “Simmer down, Barry. There’s nothing you can do about it. If she likes Lane, that’s that.”

  “I’d like to punch his nose in.” He glared at the bread dough as if it had a strong jaw and mild blue eyes.

  Judy sailed into the kitchen, a pair of mittens in her hand. “Punch whose nose, Barry?”

  “Never mind.” He lifted his hat from the chair beside him and slammed outside.

  Pinching off a large handful of dough and forming it into a loaf shape, Angie wished she could take her own advice.

  “What’s wrong with Barry?” Judy asked, taking the seat he’d just left.

  “It’s not something you need to know right now,” Angie said softly. Hoping to change the subject, she looked at the brown mittens in Judy’s hand.

  “What do you have there? Did you finish your father’s Christmas present?”

  Judy held them high. “You think he’ll like them?”

  “He’ll love them.” She slid four loaf pans into the oven. “I have some calico scraps in my trunk. Can we wrap them tonight?”

  Judy bounded out of her chair, calling as she skipped down the hall, “I’ll put them in my handkerchief box so no one will see them.”

  That evening Lane surprised Angie by coming back to the kitchen after he’d gone out to the barn for an hour after supper. With Hans cheering them on and laughing, Barry, Saundra, and Judy played Blind Man’s Bluff in the living room while they waited for Angie to join them for charades.

  “Are you busy?” Lane asked. He had a look of secret anticipation on his lean face as he stepped close to her. Feeling the cold flowing from his clothes, she wondered how he kept from freezing in the unheated barn night after night.

  “No, I’m not busy. Why?”

  “Could you come to the barn for a few minutes?”

  “Surely. I’ll tell the others not to wait for me.” She tugged her apron strings as she hurried down the hall.

  Standing on opposite ends of the room, Barry and Saundra nodded without speaking when Angie told them to go ahead without her. Judy wore a blindfold, her hands outstretched, in the center of the carpet. Hans sat at his usual spot by the fireplace.

  “Dress warmly,” Lane said when she returned. “I set up a small coal burner out there, but it’s still bitter cold.”

  “It’s a wonder you haven’t been sick again.” She pulled on her coat and reached
for a thick shawl.

  Eyebrows raised slightly, he looked down at her. “I’m not ready to retire to a rocking chair yet.” His slow grin made Angie’s stomach flutter.

  “Neither is Hans,” he continued. “That man can outwork Barry and me hands down.” He opened the door, and they stepped outside. On the porch he paused. “He said something strange this morning.”

  “What was it?” Angie blurted out.

  “Barry and I were talking about how we needed to get water to the lower pasture. With the field so big, the cattle have to walk too far to get a drink. It takes beef off of them before sale time.”

  “Hans wasn’t in the conversation at all,” he went on. “He was just listening. Then all of a sudden he said, ‘Why don’t you clean out that old spring in the hollow?’ ”

  Angie gasped. “What? I never heard of a spring down there.”

  “Neither have I.” He took her arm and stepped off the porch. “Let’s get to the barn. It’s too cold to stay out in the open like this.”

  “How did he know about the spring?” Angie asked.

  “I asked him that. He said he used to work for some people who owned this place about twenty-five years ago. That’s how he knew the ranch was here when he came to us. He needed shelter and headed for our house, hoping some friendly folks had moved in.”

  Angie shoved her hands deep into her pockets. “Well, that puts a new light on things, doesn’t it? That’s why he was interested in the house and what we’d done to it since we came here. What do you know!”

  They crossed the yard in comfortable silence, two people who knew each other so well they didn’t need to fill the quiet spaces between them.

  At the barn door, Angie asked, “Why didn’t he tell us this when he came? It would have been natural for him to tell us.”

  Lane shrugged and pulled the wooden handle on the plank door. It creaked open. “Who knows? Maybe he didn’t think it was important.”

  The barn felt eerie inside. Lane’s moving lantern opened a tiny path of yellow in a sea of thick, furry darkness. Animal smells and soft shuffling noises closed around Angie’s senses.