Mail-Order Brides of the West: Trudy (A Montana Sky Series Novel)

by Debra Holland

  This was as unlike the homecoming he’d planned for Trudy as could be. Seth had imagined taking his bride by the hand, showing her around, explaining why things looked the way they did, and what he intended to fix and change. In reality, he’d only had time to escort her to the house. Between hauling the crates everywhere, he worried about what she thought of his home and how she might fare in the clutches of the other women.

  A box labeled Bedding gave him an excuse to find out. As Seth carried it inside the house, he looked for his wife. But the group of ladies stood in the main area surrounding Trudy, and he couldn’t see what was going on.

  Inside the bedroom, he set the box on another one labeled Bedroom Articles, whatever those were, and went in search of the new Mrs. Flanigan. He found her in the kitchen. She’d donned an apron to protect her wedding dress and had rolled up her sleeves, exposing the soft white skin of her forearms.

  He watched his bride direct the unpacking of the kitchen goods, giving firm orders to the ladies with a sweet smile. The women laughed and joked with each other and with Trudy. He was glad she was making friends with the most important women of Sweetwater Springs.

  Trudy looked up and caught him staring. Their eyes locked, and color crept into her cheeks. Her pretty pink lips curved in a smile just as sweet as the one she’d given the ladies, but with a hint of innocent sensuality that made him want to cross the room, gather her in his arms, and taste her lips again.

  Mrs. Norton broke the moment when she discovered the door to the cellar. She called to Trudy, and all the women had to troop down the stairs, acting as if they’d discovered Aladdin’s cave.

  Thankful he’d cleaned away all the spider webs in the cellar, Seth strolled outside to the hubbub of unloading, feeling more hopeful than he’d had since he’d started this whole business of a mail-order marriage.

  Once he’d returned to the yard, Nick asked him a question about a crate. In deciding whether the main room needed another chair or if the crate should join the other half-dozen articles of furniture he’d sent to the barn, Seth’s thoughts about his new wife slipped to the back of his mind.

  A while later, Slim discovered a long crate labeled “Bed.” He set up a shout that brought the rest of the men over. The cowboy proceeded to regale the crew with jokes about what Seth would be doing in that bed come nightfall.

  Carter shot Slim a pointed hold-your-tongue look.

  His ears burning, Seth barked at Slim to haul the crate off to the barn, snapping that he already had a perfectly good bed—not that he’d be sleeping in it anytime soon. The decision about the new bed could be postponed until he and Trudy had some privacy. But he couldn’t help wondering if he would set up Trudy’s bed—their marital bed—in the very near future.

  * * *

  Trudy stood next to Seth on the porch, waving good-bye to her new friends. But as soon as the last wagon drove out of sight, a wave of fatigue washed over her. Not even the thrill of finally being alone with her husband was enough to give her energy.

  Seth must have noticed, for he cupped her elbow and steered her to the nearest rocking chair. “Take a seat. You must be worn off your feet with all you’ve been through today.”

  Grateful for his thoughtfulness, Trudy sank into the rocker. Her corset and bustle made it difficult to get comfortable, so throwing decorum to the wind, she slid down and arched her back until her shoulders touched the chair.

  Trudy rested her head against the wood and looked out over the wide-open space. She could sit and gaze at the landscape and beautiful sky all day, although she did wish the house was situated to take in the view of the mountains. Maybe they could add a back porch.

  Seth folded himself onto the bench next to the rocker. “I can’t believe we’ve accomplished so much. All your possessions unloaded, the furniture in the house uncrated, the lids to everything else pried open…”

  “They are good people. Makes me feel…” she strove to figure out the word. “Right about living in Sweetwater Springs.” She made her tone playful. “Although, I think they ate us out of house and home. We’ll need to go to town tomorrow and replenish our stores.”

  “Of course. I can make time after breakfast. But then I have to finish the spring planting. I’ll manage time for church on Sunday, but I’m already behind.” He winked at her. “This business of preparing for a bride has gotten me off track.”

  “Is that a complaint?” she teased, knowing the answer.

  “Absolutely,” Seth said, deadpan, but his eyes glinted. “’Spect it won’t be the first time my wife sidetracks me.”

  “’Spect not,” Trudy echoed.

  They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Trudy had so much to say…to ask, but just thinking about the immediate tasks in front of her—organizing the house, planting the garden—felt too fatiguing. She wanted some peace and quiet to mull over everything that had happened in the last several hours.

  Trudy pushed with her toes, sending the chair into a gentle rocking motion. She hoped Seth meant what he’d said in his letter about waiting to have marital relations, because she just wanted to go to bed, alone. Although—she glanced at her husband’s strong profile—she could see that changing in the near future.

  Seth cleared his throat. “I plan on sleeping in the loft until…”

  Trudy let out a long, relieved sigh. “You read my mind. I was just thinking how odd it would be to sleep with you—us so new and everything.”

  He gave her a half smile and reached over to gently tuck some loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I understand.”

  For some reason, the gesture made tears come to her eyes.

  His brows drew together. “What?” he asked softly, his eyes worried.

  Trudy swallowed. How could she explain her jumbled-up feelings? She had so many—her relief that she liked her handsome husband, her disappointment with the starkness of the house, her joy at the beauty of the mountains, her sadness at being away from her family, her dismay at the smallness of Sweetwater Springs, her relief over making new friends, her excitement about starting a new life, her dread of tackling the organization of her possessions…

  She thought of Evie and wondered if her friend had experienced similar overwhelming emotions. I’ll write to her tomorrow. At that comforting thought, her tears dried.

  Seth tapped her nose. “Mrs. Flanigan, you’re awfully quiet.”

  Trudy captured his finger. Boldly, she didn’t let go. “I’m exhausted. I want a bath. Yet, sitting quietly with you feels good too, so I don’t want to move.”

  Seth’s gaze followed his finger, and his eyes heated. “A bath can be arranged.” His voice sounded a little hoarse. “In the summer, when the weather is hot…” He gestured to the side with his free hand. “The creek makes a bend there, and I have a nice little pool. Perfect for bathing. Very refreshing on a hot day. Too cold now, though.”

  Sounds like an adventure. Her stomach warmed at the thought of bathing in the pool with Seth.

  “How ’bout you sit here and rest, and I’ll haul the tub into your bedroom and fill it with water. I’ll heat water in the stewpot for the tub and also fill up the kettle, so you’ll have warm to add to it.”

  “A bath sounds heavenly.” Trudy gave him a grateful smile. But when he went inside, she thought longingly of the bathroom at her father’s house—of stretching out in the claw-footed tub and soaking in the plentiful hot water that flowed from taps.

  I’ll just have to make-do. Trudy figured she’d be telling herself that statement a lot in the future. Putting her head back against the rocker, she dozed. It seemed like just a few minutes before Seth touched her shoulder to wake her, but the shadows in the yard had lengthened.

  “Your bath is ready, Trudy.” He extended a hand to help her up.

  She woke alert, energized, and slipped her hand into his. Without her gloves, Trudy could feel the hardness of his palm and the calluses of a workingman’s hand. She let him pull her to her feet. They stood there togeth
er for a minute; the tension at each other’s nearness vibrated between them.

  Seth dropped a kiss onto her forehead. “Go bathe, my dear, before the water grows cold. I’ve left warm water in the kettle and pitcher next to the tub for you to rinse with.”

  Murmuring a thank you, Trudy went into the bedroom. With dismay, she saw the small round tin tub and wondered how she could possibly fit into it.

  Opening the green trunk pushed against the bottom of the bed, she took out a clean housedress and undergarments and tried to shake out the wrinkles. She arranged her silver comb, brush, and hand mirror on the washstand. From the other trunk resting on the far side of the bed, she took out a bath towel and washcloth. She’d packed more in one of the boxes, but had foreseen that she might need one of each when she arrived.

  Setting the towel, washcloth, and a bar of French-milled lavender soap on the floor by the tub, she hurriedly divested herself of her wedding dress. She spread the dress on the bed before taking off her undergarments. When Trudy unhooked her corset, she let out a sigh of relief before tossing it on the bed. Then she pulled the pins out of her hair and unbraided the plait.

  Trudy stepped into the tub and crouched to sit. Even with her knees drawn up, her body barely fit. How does Seth do it? His legs must hang out. She giggled at the image.

  But as uncomfortable as she was in her cramped position, the water was warm and felt good. Trudy picked up an empty pan next to the tub, wiggled around until there was a bit of space between her and the side of the tub, and scooped some water over her head several times. She soaped her hair and rubbed her scalp, thankful to rid herself of the lingering train smoke, then rinsed twice from the bath water. She soaped the washcloth and scrubbed her body. Awkwardly, Trudy changed positions to kneel and picked up the kettle of clean water and tested the temperature. Warm.

  She poured the water over her head, set down the kettle, and lifted the pitcher. Standing, she rinsed her head, letting the clean water trickle down her body. Then she gathered her wet hair and wrung it out before stooping to pick up the towel and dry herself off.

  Trudy stepped out of the tub and wound the towel around her head, squeezing more water out and getting her hair as dry as she could. Keeping the towel twisted around her head, she proceeded to dress again, then combed out her hair.

  Once she’d finished, Trudy looked at the tub of water and sighed. No pulling the plug and letting the water drain away. Filling and emptying the tub would make bathing a chore, indulging in a bath a luxury, and, like in many families, usually saved for Saturday nights.

  No indoor plumbing, an outhouse, a tin tub. This was her life now—the one she’d chosen. Trudy knew she’d be working harder than she ever had before. But she wasn’t afraid of hard work, and—she glanced around the bedroom once more seeing her vision of what it would look like—she certainly wouldn’t be bored. And hopefully, they could take some time to travel around the area. She wanted to see the mountains close up.

  Trudy pursed her lips. Maybe once they arranged the house and planted the garden, Seth would take her exploring.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Seth sat outside on the porch, indulging in a rare moment of peace. The bench wasn’t as comfortable as a rocker, and he made a mental note to construct another one. He let out a sigh.

  With everything he had to do, building another rocker just didn’t seem important. It’s not as if he usually sat on the porch anyway. Seems once the first signs of spring hit, he’d been working nonstop from dawn until he collapsed at night. There was never enough time or manpower to get all the tasks done, not if he wanted to expand—cultivate more land, buy more cattle to increase his herd.

  The last weeks, without his hired man and preparing for a bride, had built up an even longer list of things he needed to accomplish. He thought of Trudy’s possessions crowding the barn. I’ll bet she’s brought a rocking chair in those crates of hers. He made a mental note to ask, realizing he could probably cross new rocker off his list of chores.

  Seth had known he was concerned about marrying a stranger—living with one woman when he loved another. But he hadn’t realized until now, when he could feel the relief from the strain, the toll worry had taken on him. A knot in his belly that he hadn’t even realized was there had started to ease little by little today. The fact that he liked his new wife, thought her attractive and personable, made all the difference in the world and would affect his future for the better.

  The huge burden he’d carried had rolled off his shoulders. He had a vague sense that soon they’d start to accumulate more weight again—providing for a wife and eventually children was much different than living a bachelor life in which Seth knew he could get by on very little if he had to. But he’d reap rewards far greater than the sacrifices he’d make.

  Seth thought of the furniture stocked in the barn. A wife…his wife would be expensive. But she’d save him money too, since he could turn over the garden and house to her and not have to buy baked goods and clothes. Not to mention the other pleasures Trudy would provide. He imagined her in his bedroom, naked and wet, soaping her soft skin. His body hardened, and he forced himself to think of his farm.

  He was luckier than most farmers. Owned his land free and clear. George, his stepfather, had seen to that. Had some savings, although not as much as he’d like. He always plowed his capital back into the farm. So, he didn’t have much cash laying around. Thinking of George made familiar grief fog his mind. He wished the old man—his mother too for that matter—could have met his wife

  Hearing a light step, Seth looked up to see Trudy standing in the doorway. She wore a loose housedress and had left her damp hair free and spilling down her back. Just seeing her chased away the clouds of melancholy. He patted the arm of the rocker. “Come enjoy the evening while you can. Dusk is on its way, and it will soon be too cold for you to sit out here with wet hair.”

  She smiled tentatively and held out a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with blue ribbon. “A wedding present.”

  Surprise slammed into him. As far as Seth could remember, no one had ever given him a gift. The very fact that his bride had brought him something touched him deep inside. “You didn’t need to do that, Trudy. You brought yourself, which is the best present of all.”

  Pink crept into her cheeks, and her blue eyes lit up.

  “Not to mention those three wagonloads of goods that are now overflowing my barn.”

  She pressed her lips together, obviously trying not to laugh, but a giggle escaped anyway. “This is for you. I thought you might like it.” She bit her lip. “But maybe you’ll think it too fanciful.”

  Curious, he took the parcel from her. From the size and weight, he guessed she’d brought him a book.

  Trudy took a seat in the rocker and leaned close to watch him unwrap the gift.

  He caught the scent of lavender. Her feminine presence changed the whole feeling of his home. “You smell good,” he murmured.

  “Anything’s an improvement on how I smelled before. I was so glad to wash the smoke out of my hair! Thank you for preparing the bath. I left the tub…”

  “We’ll get it later,” Seth said, more interested in his present. He carefully untied the ribbon and handed it to her, then unfolded the paper, trying not to tear the edges that she’d carefully pasted together. A whiff of the flour paste drifted from the paper. Unveiled, the book lay in his lap, Mythical Monsters by Charles Gould.

  He looked at her in amazement.

  “You said you liked books on animals,” she rushed to explain. “I know these aren’t real, but I thought you might find them interesting.”

  Seth leaned over and dropped a kiss on her lips. The gesture felt surprisingly natural. “You thought right. Thank you.” He opened the first page and looked at the beautiful colored illustration of a Fung Wang, which looked to him like a kind of orange-and-green peacock. He traced his finger over the long feathered tail. “This is wonderful, Trudy. The kind of book I never knew existe
d, much less could have imagined that I’d own.”

  “I’m glad you’re pleased.”

  Seth gave a slow nod, wishing he could lose himself in the pages of the book. But he glanced at the dusky sky—he needed to get his bride into the house in front of the fire before she caught a chill. He closed the book and ran a reverent hand over the cover. “I don’t read much in the summer. Too much to do. But in the winter, I’ll spend many a pleasant hour reading this book. Or…” he slanted a glance at her. “If you’re interested, I can read it aloud.”

  She beamed at him. “That would be wonderful.”

  He reached out his hand, palm up. “Come, Mrs. Flanigan. I’ll build a fire in the fireplace, and you can sit in front of it and dry your hair. I have a feeling you’ll be wanting an early bedtime.”

  His words made her yawn. She covered her mouth. “You’re right.” Placing her hand in his, Trudy let him pull her to her feet. She gazed up at him for a second.

  He wanted to kiss her again but didn’t want to rush her, especially when she was so tired. So instead, he stepped away from the doorway so Trudy could walk through into the house.

  There will be more opportunities for kisses, and I’ll be sure to take advantage of every one.

  * * *

  The next morning, Trudy drifted awake. Feeling the unfamiliar surroundings made her startle into alertness. With the realization of where she was, she relaxed and stretched. Her foot caught in the sheet. She tried to free herself, only to hear the sound of a rip. She winced, wondering what Seth would say about her destroying his sheet on her first morning. Although the fabric must have been worn through for her to have torn it.

  I’ll have to unpack my own sheets.

  Her thoughts flittered: Seth, unpacking, her father, the grocery list for their trip to town… The rumble of her stomach made her wonder what to cook for breakfast. There was still some ham left. She could fry that. No bread though. Eggs… She paused, trying to recall if they’d used up all the eggs yesterday, but came up blank. Nor did she remember noticing a hen house. How could he not have chickens?