Beatrice the Bride (Cowboys and Angels Book 1)

by Kirsten Osbourne

  She laughed. “I can’t picture you with a beard like that. I can’t picture you without a beard either, though. Maybe I should shave you so I can see what your face looks like underneath all that scruffiness.”

  He touched his beard, frowning at her. “Do you have any idea how long it’s taken me to grow this?”

  “I guess your beard is more important to you than these muffins…”

  “Are you telling me I get no muffins if I don’t shave my beard? Have you lost your mind?”

  She laughed, putting two muffin tins side-by-side into the oven. “While those are baking, I’ll wash our lunch dishes. What do you want for supper?”

  He shrugged. “I love everything you cook. I couldn’t pick favorites, or you might not cook so many different things. You have no idea what variety means to me where food is concerned. Eating the same thing for every meal was about to make me absolutely crazy.”

  “I can understand that. We always had a variety of things to eat on the farm.”

  “What kind of farming did your father do?”

  “He raised corn and cows. He was a dairy farmer. I never thought he’d leave that land, and one day he just said he couldn’t take it anymore—he was going to make his fortune in the gold mines.”

  “How did your mother react?” She’d mentioned all this to him before, but he could tell she was still upset about the whole situation.

  Beatrice shrugged. “She started packing. As far as I know, she never once voiced an opinion other than his. She never argued.” She sighed. “That’s why I know I could never be a truly obedient wife. My mother had no say in anything, and I think she should have.”

  “I can understand that.” Arthur frowned. “I will always consult you on major decisions.”

  “Thank you. I need to be consulted. I’m an educated woman with a mind of my own. I can’t imagine blindly following a man to do whatever he says, simply because I married him.” She finished washing the last of the dishes, and was surprised to see him pick up the cloth to wipe them dry.

  “You start supper. I’ll dry these and put them away.”

  “Do you know where they go?” she asked with mischief in her eyes.

  “I do if you didn’t change everything!”

  “Oh, believe me. Everything is different now. Absolutely everything.”

  He frowned. “And this is why some old men told me to never let a woman in my life.”

  “They were wrong, though, weren’t they? How could you even survive without me here to smile at you every day?”

  “That’s a really good question. I don’t know how I made it here as a bachelor for seven years before you arrived. I came here as soon as I completed my training in Morse Code.”

  “Will you teach me to use the telegraph?”

  He looked startled. “Teach you? Why?”

  “In case you ever come down sick. Or if you need a break for some reason. Then I can take over for you.”

  “As soon as you finish getting your dresses made and have the house like you want it, then we’ll talk about it.”

  She made a face at him. “Every time my father told my mother they’d talk about something, it meant that the answer was no, and she needed to just forget it.”

  “I really do mean we’ll discuss it. I want to see what things are like then. Perhaps by that point the women will have been found, and this town won’t be as dangerous a place.”

  “Do you really think that’s possible?”

  He shrugged. “I think anything’s possible if you believe.”

  She made a quick pot of soup for supper while she continually baked more and more muffins. He ate the first that came out of the oven, and his eyes closed with pleasure. “These are even better than the muffins Miss Bing made!”

  “Only because they’re fresh from the oven. I used her recipe.”

  “You have a good touch with baking, Beatrice. Is there anything you’re not good at?”

  She thought for a moment. “I’m not particularly good at tatting. I’ve tried and tried to learn, but I’m afraid all of my doilies will be plain.”

  He laughed. “Well, if that’s the only thing you’re not good at, I’m proud to be your husband.”

  “And you wouldn’t be otherwise? Really?”

  He laughed. “I’m not going to say anything else, because I seem to be digging my own grave with my words.”

  “That’s very smart of you.” She turned her back to him, a big smile on her face. The man kept her smiling and happy. Even in the face of her grief, she was feeling hopeful about her future. And it was all because of him. She said a quick, silent prayer, thanking God for sending Arthur into her life.

  Chapter Five

  After supper that evening, Beatrice covered all of the muffins with a towel. She’d made sixty, deciding that she would base how many she made the next week on how many were left after this week. She could gradually increase how many she made, but even Arthur couldn’t eat sixty or seventy muffins on his own, no matter how determined he was that he could.

  They sat in the parlor, and he finished reading Tom Sawyer to her, smiling at her reactions. She worked on finishing up her second dress. Now that she had two, she could start working on her aprons and nightgown. Her fingers were sore from all the sewing, but it was a good feeling, because it meant she’d accomplished her goals. Nothing felt better than meeting a goal.

  It felt strange to her not to sleep in a nightgown, but she had no choice while she had none. She still felt that an apron was more important, though. She wanted to be able to keep her dresses fresh for as long as possible. Arthur only allowed her to do laundry on the days he was home because he worried about her being outside alone.

  When they were done reading, she put her sewing down and moved toward him. This was her favorite part of the day—when he would put his arm around her and they would talk, and occasionally kiss.

  “What are your plans while I’m at work tomorrow?” he asked. He loved that she was so industrious—always working to get as much done as she could.

  “I will do the usual cooking and cleaning. I also hope to finish at least one apron. I think the house is shaping up nicely, don’t you?” She loved what she’d done with the kitchen, and now she needed to make the rest of the house look just as good.

  “I do. I love the new tablecloth. And you’re doing curtains to match?” Truly, he didn’t care about the changes she made to the house, but he knew they were important to her, so he did his best to be supportive of them. Never would he tell her that they didn’t matter at all.

  “I am. But just for the kitchen. I think I want to make pillows and curtains that match for the parlor as well, but I have to decide exactly what kind of fabric I want to use.” She looked around her, trying to decide what would go best with the fabric on the sofa.

  “Do we need to go to the store tomorrow? You haven’t been in almost a week.”

  “I do need to go. Could we go after breakfast? I thought I’d hand out muffins before breakfast.” She was so excited to do something for the people of Creede that she just couldn’t express it.

  “You’re going to make me start out my work week exhausted, aren’t you?”

  She frowned. “That’s not my intention. Do we need to do things differently?” Beatrice would never make life harder for him if she could help it.

  “Not at all. We’ll pass out the muffins, have breakfast, and then we’ll go to the store so you can buy supplies. Will once a week be often enough?”

  “Probably Mondays and Thursdays would be best. Are you sure I can’t go alone?” Beatrice didn’t mind that he went with her, but she loved the idea of taking all the time she wanted to peruse the wares of the store.

  “Very sure. Not until we’re sure what’s going on. I heard Saturday that another woman has disappeared. It really makes me nervous to see so many ladies go missing.” He didn’t add that it seemed to be all the pretty young women who were vanishing. He was sure there was foul play involved
, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

  “That’s terrible! I thought there weren’t any young women?”

  “There are a few. They’re usually new to town and came here to do one job or another. Then they’re gone. I think someone is taking them.”

  “The sheriff really needs to get involved, then.”

  “He’s as aware of the situation as everyone else in town is.” Arthur shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going through his mind, but he doesn’t seem at all concerned about the women.”

  “Should you go talk to him?” Beatrice asked. She couldn’t imagine anyone not worrying about women disappearing. It didn’t make any sense to her at all.

  “I don’t think it would do any good at all.” He shrugged. He wanted to do something to get the sheriff off his lazy backside, but he wasn’t sure what would work. So far nothing seemed to. “So what time do we need to be up to give away the muffins you made?”

  “I’d say five? That way we can give out muffins for an hour before breakfast, and still have time to go to the store.”

  He yawned. “Just thinking of getting up at five makes me tired. I like being a lazy bones and sleeping until seven most days.”

  “Me too!” Beatrice grinned at him. “I love that every day we find we have more and more in common.”

  “So do I.” He looked at her for a moment, thinking about how everything he’d wanted in a mail-order bride was sitting beside him. She was just perfect for what he needed in life. They had similar interests, she was a good housekeeper, and she cooked like a dream. How could he have wanted anything more?

  “I’m going to head to bed, then. Of course, I can take a nap in the middle of the day if I get too tired…you can’t do that.”

  “Get over here and kiss me goodnight,” he commanded, tugging at her until she was leaning against him.

  “Oh, yes, sir.”

  He laughed. “The day you’re really that obedient to me when you don’t want to be will be the day I know I’ve gone to heaven.” Truly he didn’t care how obedient she was about most things. As long as she stayed safe, he would be content.

  She laughed, pressing her lips against his. “Goodnight, husband dear.”

  “Goodnight, wife.”

  She rushed off to her bedroom, brushing out her hair and braiding it quickly before she stripped down into her petticoats to sleep. When she’d married Arthur, she’d had no idea that she would develop feelings for him. He was a good man, and she was starting to feel like she really did belong with him.

  Though she missed her mother something fierce, Beatrice knew she would never begrudge her the happiness she was finding with Arthur. She’d only wanted her daughter’s happiness from the day she was born.

  After she said her prayers, she whispered, “Goodnight, Mama. I’m happy, but I hope you know just how much I miss you.” She closed her eyes to sleep, her thoughts on her parents and how they would feel if they could see her now. Hopefully, they’d be pleased that she’d made the best of a terrible situation.

  At six the following morning, Beatrice and Arthur were out in front of the house with a basket of muffins, handing the baked goods to all the men who passed by. Everyone was surprised by the gift, and most of the men were downright thankful to have something in their bellies before they headed into the mines to work.

  The men stopped one by one, each grabbing a muffin. Only one man refused one, saying that he was allergic to strawberries.

  “Maybe next time you can make muffins without strawberries. I like corn muffins a lot.”

  She laughed. “I’ll do my best!”

  The whole time she passed out muffins, Arthur stood behind her, glowering at men who stepped too close to her when they accepted the treat. She was too pretty to be in the middle of all those men.

  “Who are you?” one young man asked as he took the muffin, his eyes lingering a bit too long on her.

  “I’m Mrs. Jameson,” she answered, her eyes going to Arthur, who was frowning.

  The man frowned. “You’re married?”

  Beatrice nodded, trying not to laugh at the disappointment in his voice. “I married Arthur on Tuesday of last week.” Surely when he heard she was a newlywed, he would move on.

  “That’s unfortunate.” He walked away, but not before glaring at Arthur.

  Beatrice laughed. “Who was that?”

  “I have no idea, honestly. He must be new to town.” He shook his head. “There are so many new people in this town, I can’t even begin to keep up with them all.”

  At that moment, Beatrice caught the eye of the strange woman across the street. She was wearing the same clothes she’d worn every time Beatrice had seen her—a gray skirt and a pale pink blouse with ruffles on it. She seemed to be trying to tell her something.

  Beatrice strained her ears, trying to hear, but she couldn’t tell what the other woman was saying. Suddenly the strange woman ran across the street, running right through a wagon to stand next to Beatrice. “Get inside. Now. There’s danger coming.”

  If Beatrice hadn’t already met her, or seen her run through the wagon, she might have hesitated. Instead, she grabbed Arthur’s arm and pulled him toward the door. “We have to get inside. Right now!” She hoped that he would understand her urgency and move with her.

  Arthur didn’t question her, though his face was puzzled. Beatrice caught a glimpse of Death as she hurried into the house and shut the door, leaning back against it.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he asked after a moment. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He stared down at his wife, wondering why her face was so pale.

  “You know, I may have. I’m not sure who I just saw, but she told me to get inside.” Beatrice couldn’t hesitate any longer. She needed him to know about how her life had been saved.

  “She? There hasn’t been a woman by all morning long.” He studied her face, worried about her.

  “I know.” She shook her head. “This is going to sound crazy, but I need to tell you a story.” Just as she was going to tell him to sit down, she heard gunshots outside on the street.

  He stared at her with wide eyes, then went over to look out the window, carefully so he wouldn’t be hit by a stray bullet. “Someone is lying on the ground right where you were standing. Shot through the chest.”

  She sighed. “That’s what I need to tell you about. Sit down, and I’ll talk while I fix breakfast.”

  He frowned, but sat down at the table, giving her his full attention. “Tell me what just happened.”

  “I have to start the day my parents died…” She explained about the woman appearing in the wagon with her, and how she told her to get out. Then how she’d seen her parents wagon go over into the ravine, the angel of death standing over them. “I also saw her the day of our picnic. She told me that I shouldn’t feel guilty about being happy with you just because it’s so soon after my parents’ death.” She shook her head. “I’ve asked her and asked her why she couldn’t have saved my parents as well, but she said it was because she was sent here for me, not them.” A tear trickled down her cheek as she told the story. She couldn’t help but relive the events of the day of her parents’ death.

  “And you just saw this woman again? There wasn’t anyone but us there at the picnic. Or outside. Well, no women at least.” Arthur worried that she was losing her mind for just a moment, but she was the most level-headed woman he’d ever been around.

  “She was there. I watched her walk through a wagon to get to me. She told me to go inside, said I had to go immediately. As I grabbed you and pulled you with me, I saw the Angel of Death again. I knew he was there for someone. I’m just glad it wasn’t us.” She sighed. “I really do know how crazy this sounds, but it’s true. I haven’t said anything because I didn’t want you to think I’d lost my mind.”

  “It’s hard not to think that.” Arthur studied her for a moment as she moved efficiently at the stove. She didn’t seem to be given to fanciful thoughts, so it was odd th
at she would believe something like this so strongly. “I believe that you believe it, and I believe that whatever it was saved our lives. That’s all I can agree with for now.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Not trying to find an asylum to take me to.” She slid French toast and bacon onto two plates and carried them to the table. “I believe she’s my guardian angel.” She hadn’t been sure what to call the woman before, but as soon as the words passed her lips, she knew they were right.

  “That sounds crazy, too!”

  “I know it does, but I don’t know what else to think. No one else sees her. She’s saved my life twice now. After my parents died, she told me to walk to Creede, and she even told me which bench to sit on. She said that you were the man I’m meant to be with.” Beatrice shrugged, not knowing how else to explain all that had happened.

  “Well, I agree with her about something.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Let me know if you see her again. Otherwise, we’re going to pretend we never had this conversation.”

  She sighed. “I wish I could pretend I’ve never seen any of these things.” She rubbed her hands over her face, wanting to be able to scrub away memories.

  He reached over and rubbed her arm. “I wish you could too. Just stay safe.”

  “I don’t think my angel will let me get into trouble. I think I could go places without you.”

  He shook his head adamantly. “You’re going to give your guardian angel gray hair with that kind of attitude!” He believed that God could save people, but they needed to help Him. If a person prayed for a job but never went to apply for one, how could God help them?

  “Her hair is already kind of gray.”

  “What exactly does she look like?”

  “Hmm…well, she’s about sixty, with gray hair and these piercing blue eyes. She really is looking out for me as only my mother has before her.” She frowned, trying to remember more details. “And she’s always wearing the same gray skirt and pink, ruffled blouse.”

  “Nope, never seen anyone in town who matches that description.” He shook his head. “It’s my job to look out for you now. And I’m not going to let you put yourself in danger—guardian angel or no guardian angel.” He finished his breakfast and stood up. “Do you mind waiting on the dishes until after we’ve gone to the store? I’m going out the back way, so there’s no chance we’ll run into the trouble that was there.”