The Rancher's Perfect Bride

by Caroline Clemmons

  He pulled her into his arms. “Zenobia, thank God you’re safe. We didn’t have that shooting lesson a day too soon. I’m sorry you had to confront them, but you held your own.”

  She rested her head against his strong chest. His accelerated heartbeat reflected his anxiety.

  “I thought I would have to kill that stocky man. He was determined to reach me. The leering way he looked at me scared me witless and he said horrible things.”

  He kissed her hair. “I’m sorry you had to deal with them. I don’t recognize either of them. Must be the two Andrew’s hand Dix saw. We’ll have to take them to the sheriff in Cottonwood Springs.”

  “They planned to steal what they wanted while you were away from the house.”

  He rubbed his hand in circles on her back. “Thank heavens they didn’t know you were here or they might have sneaked in and caught you off guard.”

  The very thought sent shudders through her body. “What will you do with them until you can get them to town?”

  “We’ll take them today. I’m proud your marksmanship let you wound that one.”

  She leaned close and spoke quietly, “Callum… um, I have to tell you the truth. The first time I fired at him, I intended to hit his boots and got his shoulder. The second time, I aimed at his other shoulder and hit his knee. Frankly, I’m surprised I didn’t miss entirely.”

  He hugged her to him again. “Don’t tell anyone. You’ll have a reputation now as a woman who can defend herself. Let’s keep it our secret that you aren’t as good a shot as you’d like.”

  “I don’t want to be tested again by the likes of those two but I think I should practice more. If I’d missed him he would have overpowered me.”

  “That thought makes my knees go weak, honey. He might have killed or assaulted you or both.”

  “From the look in his eyes, he would have. He said he wanted to teach me a lesson and he spoke of horrid things he would do.”

  Max, the ranch hand on whom Callum most relied, strode over. “We have them tied up. Brand and I can take them to the sheriff now if that’s okay with you.”

  “If I had a go at the one who came at my wife, I’d do him damage. Getting him away from here as soon as possible will be best.”

  “I think I recognize the one Miss Zenobia shot. He’s a rough one and as likely to shoot you in the back as not. We’ll get them to jail and be back soon.”

  Callum turned to her. “Anything you need from town?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I’ll be happy to see the last of those two.”

  He kept his arm around her shoulders and guided her onto the porch. “Come on in the house.” He stopped at the doorway. “Let me get the rifle.”

  Once inside the house, he returned the rifle to its place over the door. “We’ll clean it tonight. I haven’t shown you how to do that.”

  Zenobia hoped her legs would support her long enough to get to a chair. She plopped down and grabbed the edge of the table. Now that the event had passed, she couldn’t have been weaker.

  Callum knelt in front of her. “I’m proud of you for standing up to those two. You could have hidden in the cellar.”

  The idea shocked her. “Not when I could catch them by surprise. If… if there had been more of them I might have been afraid to confront them.”

  She covered her face with her hands. “I only did what I thought was best for our ranch and all you’d worked so hard to earn. I didn’t think that much about my actions.”

  He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Go stretch out on the bed for a while. Maybe even have a nap.”

  “I don’t think that’s what ranch wives do.”

  “I’ll bet they do after the kind of day you’ve had.” He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. “I’d like to join you, but I’d best get back to work or scandalize the hands.”

  She couldn’t resist. Her legs barely supported her. She sat on the edge of the mattress and he removed her shoes. When she lay down her husband covered her with a blanket.

  “Thank you, Callum, for pampering me.” She closed her eyes and wriggled to settle herself.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Callum watched his wife from the doorway of their bedroom. When he thought of the narrow escape she’d had, his heart almost stopped. In only a little over a week since she’d been here she’d overcome a deadly rattlesnake and two thieves.

  She thought he pampered her? What kind of life had she had in Atlanta? As silently as he could manage, he turned and strode to get to work.

  Pete saw him step off the porch and brought his horse and Callum’s. “You gonna leave Miss Zenobia alone the rest of the day?”

  Callum swung onto his horse. “She gave in enough to rest a while. Now that the threat is removed, I believe she’ll be all right here alone.”

  Pete climbed into the saddle. “She sure ’nuff done real good capturing those two. Lots a women would have screamed or hid. Good thing you taught her to shoot that rifle.”

  Callum massaged his chest over his heart. “You can say that again. Not a bit too soon, was it? I never dreamed she’d actually need that ability the next day.”

  “How could you? We don’t have much trouble here. Some of the ranchers resent our fences, but that’s about the most of it.”

  “Let’s get on with checking them. Max and Brand will likely be gone several hours. Wouldn’t be surprised if Sheriff Dixon comes to check with Zenobia.”

  ***

  This was the day Zenobia had dreaded most, laundry day. She had studied the notes from Mrs. Nesbitt. Still, reading about something and actually doing the chore was quite different. Would she make a mess of their clothes?

  After starting a fire in the yard under the washtub, she filled it with water and shaved in the soap. She’d already sorted the clothing. According to her notes, her underwear was first with her washable dresses and then sheets and towels followed by men’s underwear, with the men’s work wear last.

  With a tub of clear cold water nearby for rinsing, she set to work. She worked until she thought she’d expire right there by the washtub. Then she had to hang the clothes wherever she could find a place for them to dry. Mrs. Nesbitt wrote to use bushes and fences if there was no clothes line.

  The clothes the men had worn for irrigating were the very last things to be laundered. The water was thick from the mud that had clung to their things. Maybe she should have used fresh water for them—or soaked them first.

  There were no bushes and the fence was barbed wire unless she counted the one around the pig pen or corral. Somehow, she doubted those qualified as a good place for clothes. She used the porch rails, the rope stretched between the house and the barn, benches and chairs on the porch, and the hitching rails.

  Her unmentionables, she laid out in the spare rooms to dry where men’s eyes would not see them. She needed a rack of some sort to use indoors. That would be handy for winter, too.

  If she’d been beaten with the stick she’d used to lift the laundry from the tub then her back, arms, and shoulders could not have hurt more. While the clothes dried, she went back into the house and sat down in the parlor. She still had supper to get into the oven.

  Tears sprang to her eyes while her stomach quivered. Hugging her arms, she closed her eyes in despair. Never had she been so exhausted. How did other women survive the demands of this life?

  She didn’t miss her life in Atlanta, but longed for just one servant to help her on days like today. She leaned her head against the chair’s back. How could she continue as she was? What if she also had children to care for or was large with child?

  She couldn’t do this. It wasn’t humanly possible.

  After rising slowly, she splashed water on her face. She poured herself a cool glass of milk and drank it while sitting at the kitchen table. Lips pressed together, she decided there had to be a way for her to succeed as a ranch wife. Surely there must be other women who came here without sufficient training. How did they manage?

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sp; Callum had married her in good faith. She had promised to be his wife and that meant keeping his home in all ways. She thought ahead to the coming barn raising and dance. There she could meet other wives and ask them questions.

  She rose to go check on her drying clothes. The brisk breeze had dried the linens and the men’s shirts so she gathered those and brought them inside. By the time everything had dried, she had those things not requiring ironing folded and put away. The rest, she piled into the laundry basket temporarily.

  As she did, she looked down at the clothes she was wearing. She’d forgotten to pull her skirt up between her legs and tuck it into her waist. Working with the washtubs had created mud, through which her hem dragged. In addition, she’d splashed and created muddy spots on the front of her dress below her apron.

  Refusing to be seen in such disarray, she hurried to the bedroom and changed to a clean dress and apron. Her hairdo needed repair. She reached up to take care of the bun, but her arms were so sore she couldn’t manage.

  Now she had more clothes for the dirty clothes basket when she hadn’t yet ironed those she’d laundered. She wanted to curl on the bed and bawl. Forcing herself not to give in, she dragged herself to the kitchen.

  When Callum and the men returned, she was frying the venison steaks her husband had left in the cool space. She’d boiled parsnips with carrots and opened a jar of corn. Biscuits were ready and she set them on the range’s warming shelf.

  Callum entered the room sniffing. “Something smells good.”

  Forcing a smile, she turned toward him. “Almost ready to serve. Go ahead and… sit… down…” she sensed herself falling but couldn’t stop.

  ***

  Callum saw Zenobia wilting toward the floor and caught her before her head hit the wood surface. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

  He scooped her up but she was only half conscious.

  Max grabbed the frying pan. “I’ll see to things here while you take care of your missus.”

  Callum carried her to the bedroom. He laid her gently on the bed then brushed back her hair from her face. “What’s wrong?” he repeated. “You’re scaring me. Talk to me.”

  She didn’t open her eyes. “So sorry. Tired, just really tired.”

  He lit the bedside lamp then took her hands in his. Compared to a week ago, her hands were red and blisters marred the pads of her fingers and her palms. She must have been in agony.

  After pouring water into the washstand basin, he moistened a washcloth and wrung it out. Tenderly, he bathed her face and then her hands.

  “I’ll get the bag balm from the barn. It’s real good to heal places like those on your hands.”

  She opened her beautiful blue eyes and tears poured from them. “I’m so sorry. I’ve tried so hard to be a perfect wife but I know I’ve failed miserably. Please don’t send me away.”

  He kissed her sweet face. “How could you think I would? We’re husband and wife and that’s forever. Honey, no one expects you to be perfect.”

  “I want to be. You deserved the perfect bride but I don’t know how to do everything.”

  “Of course you don’t. This is a new land and a totally new experience for you. Each of us learns as we go along.”

  “But you’re so good at your job. You built this home with very little help. You’ve prevailed against terrible weather and incredible odds. You’ve succeeded when others were forced to surrender.”

  “Andrew and I knew about ranching before we came here but we still had a lot to learn about growing things and ranching in Montana Territory. We made mistakes but we had the advantage of knowing the basics. We talked to neighbors to learn more. Figure that’s what you need, you need to talk to some of the other wives who’ve been here longer.”

  Her expression looked so hopeful it put him to shame for not thinking of this before now. “Oh, how I would love that. I know there are easier ways to do many things than the way I’ve been doing them.”

  “You’re too tired. You stay right here and I’ll bring you your supper and get the bag balm for your hands.”

  Her eyes widened. “I couldn’t. What will people think? Besides, I’m supposed to bring you your supper.”

  “What people? The men won’t think anything about it except they’ll miss your sweet smile. Max is finishing up the meal and he’s a pretty good hand in the kitchen. Not near as good as you, of course, but enough to keep us from starving.”

  She covered her face with her hands. “I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know what happened to me. One minute I was talking to you and the next you were carrying me in here.”

  He pulled her hands from her face and held them in his. “I’ll tell you what happened. You’ve worked yourself into a state of exhaustion by trying too hard.”

  He stood and leaned over to kiss her brow. “You need to rest. I’ll be back in a few minutes with your supper.”

  Callum strode into the kitchen. “I think she passed out because she’s overtired. Reckon she was used to having servants and was trying to learn everything at once. She said she wanted to be perfect.”

  Pete looked up from his plate. “She’s pert near perfect all right and she hadn’t oughta worry.”

  “Her hands are in a pitiful state. I’ll get the bag balm from the barn and take it in when I take her food.”

  Pete jumped up. “I’ll get it right now while you eat.”

  Brand toasted Callum with his glass of milk. “She’s a good woman and you can tell her so from us.”

  Max stood and went to the range. “You go ahead and eat, boss. I’ll fix her a glass of milk to take in with her plate when you finish.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Callum ate quickly then stood and carried Zenobia’s plate and drink to the bedroom. He set them and the balm on the dresser while he helped her into her nightgown and bed. When the pillows were plumped behind her, he tucked the covers around her hips.

  He sat on the bed and balanced the plate on her lap. “Knife and fork are in my shirt pocket.” He leaned forward so she could reach them easily then set the milk on the nightstand.

  “Thank you. Now, go eat with the others, Callum.”

  “Max fixed your plate while I was eating. By now they’re probably doing the dishes before they go to the bunkhouse.”

  He grinned at her and tucked a napkin in the neck of her gown. “This way I get out of doing the dishes.”

  She looked at her plate as she cut the meat into tiny pieces. “I’m still embarrassed. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  “You mean you’ve never worked yourself half to death before?”

  She swallowed a bite of the venison. “It wasn’t that bad. Laundry was just more work than I expected. I’m sure there was an easier way to go about it.”

  He leaned across her legs propping himself on his elbow. “How did you know what to do, how to begin?”

  At first he didn’t think she was going to answer. Eventually, she looked at him. “Marcy and I took cooking and housekeeping lessons from a lady named Mrs. Nesbitt. She’s the sister of the matchmaker. We didn’t have enough time to cover everything so Mrs. Nesbitt wrote out instructions.”

  “I see, so Marcy doesn’t know how to do these things either?”

  She shook her head and looked back at her plate. “Although she can press clothes and polish shoes, that’s about it. We wanted to make good wives so we took as many lessons as we had time for. We had to keep it a secret from my stepfather.”

  The flash of an idea hit him. “So, Marcy knows how to press clothes and polish shoes. By any chance, was she your maid?”

  He watched the emotions pass over her face. She wanted to deny it out of loyalty to her friend yet she didn’t want to lie to him. Once again he hoped she never played poker. That is, unless she was playing against him.

  “Zenobia, why don’t you tell me all about why you left Atlanta and how you and Marcy came to be traveling together?”

  Between bites of her supper, she launch
ed into a long tale about her parents, her father’s death, her mother’s remarriage, her mother’s illness and death, followed by her stepfather’s mistreatment. She included the man’s threat of imprisonment in an insane asylum.

  “What a disgusting cad. You think your stepfather would retaliate even against Marcy?”

  Her wide blue eyes met his gaze. “His name is Jim Beveridge and I’m certain of it. He’s truly evil. Now that he’s spent most of my mother’s money, he wants to marry another wealthy widow. To do so he needed me out of the way and he needed my money.”

  He couldn’t prevent a frown. “Your money?”

  A slight dip of her shoulder indicated her speculation. “I’m sure he’s embezzled the funds by now even though they were held in trust for me until I turned twenty-five or when I married. He wouldn’t even tell me the terms of my mother’s will. He’s hand-in-glove with my parents’ lawyer. I’m sure between them they figured a way to break the trust.”

  Obviously, she’d had even more money than he’d imagined. “How can you be sure?”

  “Marcy heard my stepfather and the man he wanted me to marry—Percy Lawton is his name—arguing over arrangements. Percy agreed to let my stepfather keep most of the money. She heard the terms ‘trust’ and ‘will’ mentioned. When they saw Marcy, they sent her away so we don’t know the rest.”

  “Surely you’re beyond his reach now. He has no idea where you’ve gone, has he?”

  “I don’t see how he could, but she and I are still worried. Callum, you have no idea how ruthless the man is. He would stop at nothing to punish us, especially me, for escaping him.”

  He gestured to the ornate bedside lamp. “All these things you brought with you, did you steal them from him?”

  She recoiled almost as if he’d slapped her. “How could you think that of me? These things are only a small part of what was coming to me from my grandmothers and my mother. I had to leave so much behind but I divided with Marcy what I could get to the train. I could never have managed to escape without her.”