Brides of Grasshopper Creek

by Faith-Ann Smith

  Yes, and how to get your own way. Joseph set the steaming mug back on the table. He hated it when his father used coercion, and wondered if he might use the same tactics when he became a father. The unbidden thought shot lightning bolts through him and he squirmed. What am I thinking?

  He dragged his mind back to the present and groaned, “Pa, don’t I have better things to do than get hitched?”

  Horton’s easygoing expression vanished. He crossed his arms and said, “Bah! If I leave you to decide, you won’t do a thing. That’s why. A solid union will help you better organize your life. I happen to think Rose is a good woman, and she needs a good man. Forgot to mention, I want a few grandkids, too. Six or seven will do mighty fine.”

  Joseph choked on his second sip of coffee and spewed warm droplets all over the table. He fished a handkerchief from the inside of his coat and wiped the dark stains in furious strokes. Six or seven children? Never.

  Besides, he didn’t subscribe to the idea of marital bliss. Women had a way of interfering with his dreams, and he didn’t want to start a new relationship—with the last disastrous one fresh in his mind. “To find a good woman is impossible. They have nothing on their mind other than new clothes, moonlit rides, and shining rings on trigger-happy fingers.”

  “Never heard such nonsense in my life.” Horton said and watched his son struggle to compose himself. “Your mother is a good woman. Have you forgotten that?”

  Joseph’s swift rush of anger melted into warm memories. His mother’s tender glance, smiling eyes, and soft expression filled his mind. Running Deer had been the only reason he tolerated womankind. Her constant love and devotion over the years had been a shining light. Most women couldn’t hold a candle to her. In his experience, they left much to be desired. “My mother is a saint on earth, but she’s the only one I know.”

  Horton sniffed and his eyes narrowed. “Your brothers will disagree on that point. They’ve found excellent wives, and the Barrington women are fine stock. Just come off your high horse and you’ll see for yourself.”

  Yeah, and when I’m in doubt, my horse will do the thinking. Spent at the verbiage, Joseph rushed to end the conversation in diplomatic tones. “Yes, Father. I know you’re right. Can we talk on this later? I need to get back to work. I want the inauguration to be perfect.”

  Horton accepted the not-so-subtle hint and rose. He adjusted his Stetson over his frosted grey hair and rocked back on his heels. “Come to the house for dinner tonight.”

  When Joseph opened his mouth to decline, his father sweetened the offer: “Your mother is having everyone over and wants you there. You don’t have to polish your righteous principles. Just eat your dinner. Deal?”

  Joseph agreed, thoughts of his mother in mind. If she requested his presence, he had to go. “Sure. I’ll come.”

  After Horton’s departure, Joseph rested his head in his hands. He didn’t want another frazzled female nipping at his heels, but he might have to do the honors required of him.

  Disgusted at the turn of events, he strolled across the pinewood floor and gazed beyond the wavy glass window. The opening led beyond the wrap around porch to a wide expanse of cerulean skies and cumulus clouds hovering over the town.

  A soaring eagle rose on effortless wings, and Joseph longed to do the same. A new relationship filled him with dread and soured his tongue. He wondered if Rose might abandon him at the altar with his heart in his hand, or leave him to face the barren days and empty nights—alone.

  Chapter 2

  Rose Barrington wandered along the sunlit path and watched the birds flutter among the verdant trees that lined the driveway. The two-floor Victorian house stood in graceful splendor, and she admired the distinctive clapboard trim, curving porch, and stained glass windows. Even the oval ceiling, crisscrossed beams, decorative light fixtures, and gleaming hardwood floors enchanted her and reminded her of home.

  Along the drive, she inspected the low-lying fence and the well-swept path, flanked by giant trees with bright green leaves and plenty of shade. A cool spring breeze stirred the tendrils of her blonde hair, and she raised both hands to embrace the light. It felt good to be alive.

  Her gaze rose beyond the path and focused on the road leading to town. She loved the meandering roads and rambling valleys that spread across the scenic landscape. In place of a monotonous, arid climate, the county basked in colorful seasons interspersed with verdant trees, copper sand, bare slopes, and floral blooms.

  It had taken over a week to make the trip from Maine to California after she’d received the summons from Horton Wallace. He’d asked her to marry his son Joseph, and Rose had agreed after the success of her two sisters. Willow and Lily had found excellent husbands, and Rose hoped to do the same. She had yet to meet Joseph, but she imagined him to be a noble gentleman with a heart of gold.

  At her arrival, she learned that her sisters had left for San Bernardino with their husbands. Horton told her they’d return in one month, and offered her a place to stay in the meantime. Rose accepted, touched at his kindness and the opportunity to know Joseph better.

  The sound of turning wheels interrupted her musings and diverted her thoughts. She watched a one-horse buggy amble down the road and come to a full stop at the edge of the drive. A tall, well-dressed stranger stepped out at the edge of the road and adjusted his suit. Satisfied, he turned and made his way toward her.

  At a distance, he exuded confidence and vitality in each measured step. When he caught sight of Rose’s curious gaze, he drew to a halt. His penetrating glance stripped her from head to toe, and she blinked in surprise. A thunderous frown marred his perfect brow, and she wondered why he had such a dour look on his handsome face.

  When he stepped to the side to continue his walk, Rose whispered a breathless greeting. Despite his ill-mannered behavior, she did not want to treat him in kind. The Good Book said to treat others as you want to be treated, and she did her best to follow the Golden Rule. “Good morning…uh…sir?”

  “Are you Rose Barrington—my supposed future bride?”

  Joseph Wallace? Was it really him? Rose balked at the accusing tone and stepped back. The guttural question revealed an unpleasant undercurrent she didn’t understand. Still, her treacherous heart skipped a beat.

  Her eyes clung to his well-dressed appearance, and she wagered he’d outshine the most refined gentlemen. Rose felt like a wallflower in comparison, and concluded her plain dress with faded flowers and patched elbows did nothing to enhance her feminine attributes.

  The heat rose in her cheeks and she croaked, “Yes, my name is Rose Ba—Barrington.”

  He nodded as though aware of the answer she’d give. “You are not what I expected.”

  You mean plain and drab? Rose bit her tongue, surprised she hadn’t spoken the words outright. She knew her summer-blue eyes—fringed with gold-tipped lashes—drowned her face and gave her an owlish look. Her lips had none of the plumpness she desired and lay in two thin strips between high cheeks. They might have enhanced her appearance, but were too blunt to soften the lines of her face. Rose’s one saving grace lay in her thick mane of shiny blonde hair, which she had smoothed and twisted into a golden bun atop her head.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  He raised his brow at her matter-of-fact response. “Why should it matter if you disappoint me?”

  Because I hoped to be your bride? Rose chided herself for the intense feelings of insecurity. She knew it did not matter what lay on the outside—what was inside a person made the difference. When she stayed silent, he murmured, “I’m curious, Rose. What did you hope to discover in Riverside?”

  Good question. Rose scrambled for a neutral response. In her life, she strove to be level-headed and centered. Even her sisters championed her amiable spirit. If anyone could create calm and poise, it was Rose. If anyone could soothe the ugly nature of a beast, it was Rose. If anyone could temper the booming thunder, it was Rose.

  But her unique skills flew ou
t to pasture at the compelling glance in Joseph’s gaze, and left her disconcerted. So much for being level-headed.

  “Well, um—I hoped to start a different life, and I hoped to become a part of yours.” Rose cringed at her comment and hoped it didn’t sound childish and naïve.

  Joseph shrugged, unimpressed with her breathless statement. He glanced at the papers in his hands and said, “Right. Listen here. My father believes we should wed. I do not understand why he thinks this way, but you must get him to change his mind.”

  Get him to change his mind?

  Rose hoped she hadn’t heard right. He wanted to break the engagement? Dark clouds gathered overhead and the warm air cooled. A sudden, sharp wind tore at the hem of her dress and a litter of leaves frolicked in the breeze. Thunder rumbled in the distance and damp air tickled her nose.

  Rose hovered in a daze, her thoughts as dark as the approaching storm. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you mean.”

  He eyed the encroaching darkness and frowned. With a sharp breath, he said, “I’ve tried the marriage thing. Got myself a nice lady and chased her from here to Tombstone like a lovesick fool. She spurned me for months until she said yes. Made plans for the wedding in a jiffy and got myself spruced like a dandy, then ran her to the altar on a nice spring day. Do you know where the lady was?”

  Not there, I’d wager. Rose lacked a suitable response in reply to the bitter slant of his lips. Instead, she gripped the folds of her dress and hoped her face didn’t appear as drawn as she felt.

  Joseph smiled at her reticence, but the tilt of his lips did not thaw the frost in his eyes. “She ran off with my best friend from childhood. Left me a note to tell me how sorry she was and said something about her hopes for me to find true love. Got that?”

  Rose didn’t. A gust of wind pelted them with drizzled pellets and they rushed toward the house. They reached the porch when the downpour began.

  Rose watched the slanted sheets of rain drench the ground, and allowed the steady sound to soothe her. She wondered if Joseph realized how scarred he’d become from the event in his life and how it affected his outlook. Maybe he needed her more than he thought. “I am sorry to hear of your pain. It must be a difficult experience.”

  His fists curled around the notes in his hands, and he rejected her sympathy with rigid shoulders. “I am not hurt—just tired. Besides, I have bigger things to do. I plan to open a restaurant in one month. I’m serving miners and their families who prefer a more elegant meal than a simple bite of mutton to eat. This is my concern—not marriage.”

  The firm note in his voice dented Rose’s heart. She turned away from his iron-clad expression and tried to think on positive things. In the deep recesses of her mind, she’d planned to become a schoolteacher someday. Children filled her with joy, and she knew their agile minds needed a firm but loving hand. It might be a great idea, since Joseph didn’t want—

  “Do you know about fixing up a place right and proper? You know, napkins, the proper fork, knife, glass, and all that?”

  Rose started, surprised Joseph had spoken to her in such a curious way. She eyed him suspiciously, careful to keep her response unaffected. “Yes, I do. My parents entertained often in the past, and I planned the evening dinners.”

  He raised a brow at her confident statement and considered her response. Then he waved her over to the porch swing and waited for her to sit.

  “I think you can help me to do something.”

  Do what? Run behind your buggy for sport? Ashamed at her mean-spirited thought, Rose lowered her gaze and prayed for forgiveness. It must be hard for Joseph to trust a woman, and she needed to remember that. “How can I help you?”

  “I want to offer my customers a sample of my culinary arts. I hope that when they spread out around the country, they will take the news to others. Word of mouth is one of the best ways to let others know what we offer.”

  Rose agreed, but wondered what he wanted from her. “And how can I help you make your dreams come true?”

  Joseph blinked at the undercurrent in her voice, but refrained from mentioning it. “If you’d help me to get my place ready, I’d appreciate it. Then we can tell everyone we didn’t make it, and leave it at that.”

  Rose squared her shoulders and raised her chin. Why not? She had no immediate plans and getting her school-teaching idea off the ground would take time. “Yes, I can help you get your restaurant ready. After it’s done, I will tell your father it did not work out between us and I’ll go. Will that please you?”

  Joseph flashed an admiring glance at the resolute tilt of her chin. “Yes, if you’re willing. The truth is the restaurant can use a woman’s gentle touch. I can give you an excellent reference when it’s over that will open doors in any county around these parts. Oh, and one more thing.”

  At her expectant gaze, he said, “Don’t tell my father or anyone else. This is between you and me. That will keep them off my saddles including well-wishers, and give me the time I need.”

  Deception and untruths? Rose thought hard. She felt unsettled at his request, but if she didn’t share the news with anyone, was it really be a deception? Could it be an untruth if she refused to elaborate on their arrangements?

  Her lips would not utter an outright lie, but she didn’t have to share intimate details either. The plan might work and then she’d leave at the end of the month with her self-respect intact.

  When she raised troubled eyes to Joseph’s cool glance, Rose hoped she looked poised and in control. “Yes, I will keep this between us. No one else will know—not even my sisters.”

  “Excellent. That is the best news I’ve heard today. I know I can count on you to help me get things up and running. You seem like a capable woman. Then you can go on your own way when you’re done. No sense in muddying up the waterhole by sticking around. Deal?”

  Rose caught her breath. She marveled at how her future intended wielded compliments and insults with the superb skill of a matador. He needed to learn how to treat others with more kindness.

  A sudden thought came to her, and she held her breath. What if she could get him to change his mind and want her to stay? One month might be enough to burrow into his heart and make him see how much he needed her. It would take patience, kindness, and a loving heart, but it might work. After all… love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

  Once the idea took hold, it refused to go away. Rose averted her face to hide the gleam in her eyes. She didn’t want Joseph to get suspicious and change his tune. But a niggling sensation of excitement brewed in the back of her mind. She extended her right hand to seal the pact.

  “Yes, it’s a deal.”

  When he engulfed her hand in his own, she whispered a prayer in her heart. All things are possible if you have faith.

  Chapter 3

  The next morning, Rose stayed in bed much longer than she intended. Not even the sweet sounds of the early morning birds induced her to start the day. Her gaze wandered to the corner of the ceiling, where a mottled spider wove an intricate web. The little creature worked tirelessly to engineer the crystal threads in the right shape and size before resting. Rose admired the hard labor and wondered why she couldn’t rest the previous night.

  She admitted the evening had been fraught with unwelcomed emotions and concern. Thoughts of dinner—an elaborate feast—and Joseph’s tight face crowded her thoughts. Despite his earlier plea for help and her harebrained scheme to make him fall in love, he’d done his best to dismiss her presence—until the inevitable happened. Rose closed her eyes and relived the instant she wanted to disappear under the cracks in the floor.

  After the brisk drops of rain had fallen to a gentle patter, the sun burst forth in a blaze of glory. The grey, stormy skies melted into a cerulean blanket and a tincture of freshness lingered in the air.

  Rose had enjoyed the cool evening and spent the rest of the day exploring the perfumed gardens chock-full of milk maids, orchids and ev
ergreen shrubs with camellia-like flowers in scented white, pink, and yellow blooms. Rich lavender-purple lilacs added a touch of exotic flair, and stone circled ponds overflowed with water lilies.

  The hours spent led to a relaxed temperament, and Rose later prepared for the night with little else on her mind than the sweet scent of flowers.

  That evening, dinner turned into a lavish affair in honor of her arrival. The gold-papered walls shimmered, and polished cutlery adorned the oak table with rough edges. Large windows—left ajar—let in the starlit night air, and a gleaming fixture with three lamps dangled from the ornate ceiling.

  A brocade table runner with embroidered blooms lay under two tall golden candelabra with scented candles. Floral napkins complemented the well-laid table and matched the runner in the center. Rose loved the elegant fixtures and delighted in the tasty meal.

  Among the tall crystal glasses and gay laughter, Joseph ignored her fumbling attempts to talk to him. When she tried to engage him in conversation, he muttered one-syllable comments and turned to the other guests. His actions shut her out, and Rose retreated to her plate. She hoped her despair didn’t show, and did her best to smile from time to time.

  Horton Wallace—seated at the head of the table—caught her furtive glances and strained expression. “Rose, my dear. Why so downhearted? This is your evening. Celebrate and be cheerful. Eat more food and put meat on your bones.”

  When the guests turned to her with degrees of curiosity, Rose managed a halfhearted smile and popped a sweetened slice of carrot in her mouth. It tumbled around for an eternity before she swallowed. The mound of mashed potatoes with tender swirls of gravy came next. Much more palatable and easier to digest. She tried the grilled and juicy tenderloin steak when Horton’s voice boomed again: “Have you set a date for the wedding? Share it with us so we can get ready. Got to roast a pig and kill a cow.”

  Rose froze with a startled face, and her heart stopped. She tried to think of a glib excuse, but drew a blank. Her eyes locked on Joseph with an unspoken plea. Unruffled and at ease, he raised his glass with a wide grin. “Now, Pa, don’t spoil the surprise. You will find out in due time. Let’s enjoy our meal and discuss my wedding plans another day.”