Grace

by Peggy McKenzie

  “Grace, that’s not it at all.” He watched her back away from him. She looked stricken.

  "Please don't pity me, Mr. Malone. I can take just about anything but I can't stand your pity." Her words trailed off into barely a whisper. She turned and walked to the bedroom and closed the door quietly. Numb from spent emotions, he grabbed his coat and hat. He would sleep in the barn for the rest of the night.

  14

  Grace waited until her husband had gone and then let herself feel all the emotions she had been holding back. Her heart nearly broke at the sound of her husband closing the cabin door. The bolt thudded into place and she was certain his heart was closed to her as well.

  Tears bubbled to the surface and she let them roll down her cheeks. What a mess she had made of things. She had thought if she could get John to consummate the marriage, he would let her stay. She stared into the darkness. Angry with herself, and John, and the dead man who had set her on this path to begin with.

  She was certain she and John had a connection. She felt it. Or was it simply a case of lust? What man calls out another woman’s name during the most intimate moment of their life? What was he going to tell her? He was in love with someone else? That he could never love her? He may not love her but he was certainly attracted to her. She had known it since she had rounded Mrs. Hanover’s stair case and their eyes met. The white hot shock of heat that hit her low told her everything she needed to know about her new husband. She felt her cheeks heat as she thought of her wanton behavior tonight.

  He would sleep in the barn tonight. Perhaps it was for the best. She turned toward the wall and did her best not to cry any more. She needed to think of a plan as to how she was going to get her sisters out of Kansas City.

  It would be a couple more days at least before the snow was melted enough to get back to town. What would she do when she got there? The Hanovers had told her to come back anytime. She didn’t think they meant as a guest this soon, but she was certain Aggie would understand.

  A woman has her pride. Even an unwanted child who grew into an unwanted bride wasn’t ready to grovel. Did he think she was going to beg him to be her husband? The reminder he didn't want her pricked her pride but she'd get over it.

  Damn it. She should have kept her mouth shut. Rosie taught her to keep her cards always close to the vest. Never show your hand. She had failed miserably to follow her advice.

  Never having been a mail order bride before, much less an unwanted mail order bride, she wasn’t sure what one did when your husband wanted to return you.

  Would there ever be a place that wanted her just for the person she was? Or her sisters? She took a deep breath and rolled toward the wall. This was no time for self-pity. She had to really dig deep and figure out a way to find a place to live until she could get a job and enough money to get her sisters here.

  She lost track of how long she lay awake. It was late that much she knew. She heard the sounds of footsteps outside in the snow. What would John be doing outside at this time of night? She called out into the dark. John? No answer.

  She heard the cabin door open and close. “John?” She called again. Why did the man not answer?

  Uneasy, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed across to room to peek through the crack of the partially opened bedroom door. She could see an outline of a darker shadow near the stove. The fire had dwindled to barely a handful of hot coals. There wasn’t enough light to see much but there was no doubt in her mind that was a man. Fear shot adrenalin straight to her heart as sure as an arrow to a bull’s-eye. She had called out to John twice. If this shadow was him, he would have answered her. Besides, John wouldn’t just come in the dark cabin without some kind of light. A candle. A lantern. Something. And she doubted he would sneak into his own house.

  He had left for the barn hours ago. Was he there fast asleep and unaware that someone was skulking inside the cabin. With her? She could scream. Would John get to her before this man did? That was even if he heard her cry for help. She knew with certainty that the intruder would hear. A horrifying thought crossed her mind. What if this intruder has already been to the barn and caught John sleeping? He could have knocked him out—or worse.

  Her gun was still in her traveling trunk. She meant to get it out this morning but with everything that happened, it slipped her mind. She took another peek from behind the door. The intruder was rummaging through the kitchen tins. It was obvious he was looking for something and doing his best to be very quiet. She didn’t know if John had anything of value in the cabin, but one thing was for certain, she doubted very seriously this person wanted to be discovered.

  Perhaps she should hide in the bedroom and wait for him to leave. As if he heard her thoughts, the hulking intruder turned and headed in her direction. He was now blocking the only way out. She needed something to use as a weapon. But what? Standing next to the closet, she felt around on the floor. A boot. A really big boot. John’s boot. Grace gripped the boot in her hand and waited. She needed to keep the element of surprise and attack first. She wouldn’t be able to fight back long once the intruder knew she was there.

  She waited. It wasn’t long before the crouching shadow entered the bedroom and headed toward the bed. Dear Lord. She was glad she had been awake. Otherwise, the thought was too horrible to finish.

  She watched as the hulking shadow stopped next to the bed table. She could hear the drawer slide out. What the hell was he looking for? His back was to her. Her luck wasn’t going to get any better than this.

  Taking a quiet breath and sending a quick prayer heavenward, she stepped out from behind the door and struck out at the shadow with every bit of strength she possessed. The boot connected with a rock hard surface. The sound of something crashing to the floor made her want to let out one of those yeeeehaaaws she often heard when the cowboys stayed too long at Rosie’s.

  Grace rushed to the bedside table. She kept the boot tucked under her arm in case she needed to give the intruder another good whack if he were stupid enough to get up off the floor.

  Trembling fingers searched for the drawer under the tin candle holder sitting on the bed table. Finally. She found the knob and pulled. Reaching inside, she grabbed at the stack of matches resting there but she shook so hard it took her several tries to make contact against the metal striker bar.

  The match flared, casting eerie shadows around the room. She touched it to the candle’s wick and the flame settled into a warm glow, illuminating every dark corner. She tiptoed closer to get a good look at the person now lying unconscious on her bedroom floor. Questions bombarded her recovering brain. What would she tie him up with? If something happened to John, how would she harness those giant beasts to the wagon? She certainly was not out of danger yet.

  A groan rose up off the floor. Oh my God! He’s waking up. She backed away toward the door holding the giant boot in a death grip with one hand and a shaking candle holder in the other. In the faint glow of the candle, she watched a man sit up off the floor and rub his head. Ooooh. He’s a big man. And then Grace watched the big man turn. Her heart hit the floor and scurried under the bed to hide. John. She had just attempted to kill her groom and he looked furious.

  John felt as if he had been hit by a train. The barest of lights illuminated the darkness through his eyelids. Where was he? What happened? What was the last thing he remembered? He managed to find enough chores to keep him busy until he saw the light go out in the bedroom. He worked inside the barn until there was nothing left to do but go to sleep. He hadn’t realized how cold it would get inside the barn without a fire. The clouds had lifted and with them went the insulation that kept the temperatures from dropping.

  He wasn’t sleepy. He had too much on his mind. So, he waited another half hour or so to make certain his new wife was asleep before he ventured inside. The interior of the cabin was pitch black but he had spent so much time here, he knew the layout by heart. Shoes off so as not to wake the woman in the cabin’s only bedroom, he tiptoed to the ch
air by the fire. He intended to pass the time reading that manners book Grace had thrown at him earlier.

  But just as he was comfortable and warming up, he realized the firelight was too dim to read by. He had doused the kerosene lantern to bring in from the barn but he had left it behind. He could read by candlelight if he could find the candleholder.

  He looked in the kitchen and figured Grace must have taken it to the bedroom. He would just tiptoe in to get it off the bed table without waking her. That's the last thing he remembered.

  "What the hell happened?" he murmured.

  "You were sneaking around in the dark...I thought you were an intruder..."

  "You did this to me?" Indignation in his voice.

  "I didn't do it to you. I was protecting myself. I thought you were sleeping in the barn tonight after, you know. I haven’t heard from you in hours. Why didn't you say something?" she barked back at him. “I called out to you twice. You could have at least lit the lantern for God’s sake.”

  Anger replaced confusion. He forced himself to sit up. He was indeed lying in the floor next to the bed. The wench had knocked him out. Unsure whether to be impressed or furious, he would save his anger for later. Right now he was hurting and he needed some cold water.

  “I left the lantern in the barn and I was looking for the candleholder. Why aren’t you asleep anyway?” John used the bed to help himself stand. He shook off his wife’s attempts to help, instead preferring to stumble alone to the kitchen to the water barrel.

  “Damn it. We used all the water for—. Never mind. “

  He found the wooden water bucket and wasted no time making his way to the front door. He punched his feet into his still warm boots he had just shucked and without a look in his wife's direction, he unbolted the door and flung it wide open, walking a few short yards to the river and damned glad he had taken the time to shovel a path through the snow today. He could hear Grace behind him but he wasn't in the mood to have a conversation at the moment and he damn sure wasn't in the mood to apologize for his gruff language. After all, he was the wounded party here. What kind of woman was this bride for order anyway? He had never met anyone like her.

  15

  Grace couldn't believe she had just cold-cocked the man she now called husband. Okay, there was the slight possibility she might have overreacted but she wasn’t ready to admit that just yet. She followed his back to the river, her thoughts a jumbled mess of what-ifs.

  Thank God she hadn’t put her pistol under her pillow. She would have to explain to the law why she shot her new husband. And on their second night of wedded bliss. She really needed to ask Mr. Hanover what the laws were regarding shooting one’s spouse—accidentally, of course.

  Deep in thought, Grace shoved her bare feet into her boots, threw her shawl across her shoulders, and followed her angry husband to the water’s edge without thinking about the chilly night air. It wasn't long before she was shivering out of control.

  "I guess I should apologize but I seriously did not know it was you. I didn't hear you come in and... well, I didn't know you were planning on sleeping with…I mean...I thought you were going to spend the night in the barn."

  "Who else did you think it was? Do men have a habit of sneaking into your room after dark?"

  “I think we’ve already covered that, don’t you?” she sniped.

  “Grace, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean— “

  “It doesn’t matter. You’ve made your position clear. You certainly don’t have to beat me over the head with it.”

  She should have brought a lantern...but she had been too shocked to think when she followed John out into the darkness. Standing in the dark, she did her best to become invisible. She watched John dunk the bucket into the icy water. He poured the bucket’s contents over his head, sputtering for air and gasping as the shock of cold water drenched his clothing. She reached out to take the bucket from him when he shook his head at her.

  “No, you go back inside. I can make it just fine without your help. Besides, you are going to catch your death out here," he barked and dunked the bucket, filling it with frigid water again.

  She could see his face in the soft light of the moon now cresting over the roof of the cabin. His tone was sharp and it was obvious to Grace he wasn’t in the best of moods at the moment. She tried to pretend she wasn’t affected by his words but tears stung the back of her eyelids. She would not cry in front of this man.

  He rubbed his throbbing head again. “Where did you learn to defend yourself in such a decisive manner? You practically bashed my skull inside out. You could have killed me with a blow like that to the head.”

  Grace smiled in spite of herself. Was her husband teasing her now? "If I were trying to kill you, dear husband of mine, you would, in fact, be dead as we speak."

  John was at a loss how to deal with this unpredictable city girl. He sluiced the water out of his hair and beard with frozen fingers. What kind of woman knew how to defend herself like that? Certainly not any of the city girls he had ever met. Drying water from his face with his shirt sleeve, he blinked to clear his vision.

  “Look, Grace” he turned to gather his bucket full of water and take her arm to lead her back to the warmth of the cabin. He stood stock still. In part because of the cold night air and freezing water he poured over his head. But the biggest part was due to his new wife, clad in nothing but a very thin nightgown between him and the glow of the moon. His wife’s womanly attributes were on full display. Not good. He had already succumbed once. That couldn’t happen again. He turned and dunked the bucket full of water over his head again. This time for an entirely different reason.

  John did his best to ignore the woman at his side shivering violently against the chill of the late September Colorado night. He once again sluiced water from his hair and beard. His body was cold but his gut was on fire. Damn the woman. He refused to allow this woman to betray his wife’s memory. His heart would always belong to Lizzie and nothing would ever change that. Not even a fiery city girl with sultry eyes, a golden cloud of hair and a body he knew could very well be his downfall.

  Frustrated that his attraction to Grace was at odds with his practical convictions, he grabbed the bucket and filled it with more cold water. No sense wasting a trip to the stream. Besides, he might need another cold dousing if he intended to sleep in the same cabin with this woman. His plan had been to sneak into the cabin quietly and sleep in the chair next to the fire. He intended to be out of the house before she awoke in the morning. That plan had gone totally off-kilter.

  He hefted the wooden bucket full of water and turned toward the cabin. His wife walked beside him. She shivered so hard he could hear her teeth rattle together. She was close enough he could put his arm around her for warmth. The thought of touching her with nothing but a thin scrap of cloth between them made him think again. Probably not a good idea. As much as he was attracted to her, he knew it wouldn't last. It couldn't. And he was not going to put her life or his heart at risk. Just a few more yards to the cabin. She would be fine.

  The wind shifted and John picked up a familiar scent. He and his troublesome wife were no longer alone. They had company. And not the welcome kind.

  He could just make out dark shapes in the moonlight scrabbling around the cabin’s front door.

  "Get down low to the ground. Quick," he whispered. His new wife garnered a little more respect in his estimation when she followed his lead without argument.

  He crouched lower to the ground. She followed.

  "What is it?" she whispered.

  "Bears. Looks like a sow and her cubs." He watched and waited, wishing he hadn't come out without his pistol on his hip. "That's very strange." He whispered to himself more than to his wife.

  "Why is it so strange...to see a wild animal out here?" Her sarcastic tone made him smile in the dark.

  "Well, City Girl, bears don't normally come so close to the house. Their instincts tell them humans are not to be trusted. And a mother bear wit
h twin cubs? What would entice her to put herself and her cubs in jeopardy?"

  A small voice beside him whispered as if she really didn't want to be heard. "Would food do it?"

  "Well, yeah but what kind of brainless fool would put food right outside the door..." he looked at her, able to make the shape of her face by the light of the moon.

  "You didn't." It wasn't a question. More like an accusation.

  "I might have scraped a few tidbits of food in the snow outside the door. I didn't know where you were and..."

  "So it's my fault we now have a mother bear and her cubs blocking the warmth and comfort of our home."

  "I didn't say that," she whispered through chattering teeth. "I was trying to explain why..."

  He was angry. But more at himself than her. He knew better. She didn't. He should have told her. But he was doing his best to discourage her from staying and his tricks had put them both in serious danger.

  The wind shifted again. Suddenly, the sow stood on her hind legs and sniffed the air. She caught their scent and the lumbering beast was sniffing in their direction.

  "She's coming. I want you to back up slowly. Head toward the river. When you get there, cross it. It's shallow this time of year. There's a small stand of trees to your right. Inside that grouping of trees is a ladder, wooden boards nailed to the tree. Climb them. There's a platform at the top. Get on it and stay there. Don't come down until you hear the sound of my voice telling you to. Understand?"

  She nodded. He could see the fear shining in her eyes but she did as she was told. He watched her disappear into the darkness. "Please God, I hope you are listening. Help me protect her. No matter what she’s done, she doesn't deserve being married to a dolt like me. I didn’t ask for a wife. But I damn sure don't want to be responsible for a dead one. Not again."