They had come within earshot of the men. Several stood near the brick cooking structure, the pot overflowing with scrambled eggs.
“This here’s Harry, our best cook.”
“Welcome, ma’am.” Harry tipped his hat, the brim stained beneath his grip. He smiled, showing a gap where his front tooth was missing, though he didn’t try to hide it.
“Good morning, Harry.”
“Here’s a pile of eggs to get your morning started.” Harry handed over a tin plate of eggs that were speckled with burnt flakes. “Coffee’s strong and bitter, just like they like it, but I suppose we can get a little milk for you, if you need it.”
Angelica smiled politely, resisting the urge to return the dirty fork she’d been given. “Thank you, Harry. It’s nice to meet you.”
Holden placed his hand at the small of her back, guiding her to the front of the shelter. “Men, I’d like to introduce my wife, Mrs. Angelica Jamieson.”
Cheers erupted, the sound drowning out the rooster. Angelica laughed, nodding her greeting to the men who maintained a respectful distance. None looked at her longer than to make eye contact and smile briefly when Holden called out their names. Alex. David. Steven. George. Though she’d try hard to remember them all, she was certain of two things. Harry had left an impression, and he was a terrible cook.
She ate politely, working hard to swallow each bite. When she’d half finished, the men around her began to pick up their plates and utensils, dropping them in a bucket at the end of the table. They left quietly.
Holden waited until Harry’s back had disappeared inside the barn before pulling her plate away and saying, “You don’t have to finish this. I’ve arranged for the men to work without me today so I can take you to town and pick out whatever provisions you need.”
“That’s nice.” Angelica frowned. “Do they leave the dirty dishes out in the heat all day in that bucket?” The thought was nauseating.
“They do.” Holden grimaced. “Unfortunately, Tilly was right. Harry is a horrible cook, but not many of the hands are regular enough or willing to take on such a task. What he lacks in talent, he makes up for with a cheerful disposition.”
Eyebrow raised, Angelica said, “And no one minds the filthy dishes?”
He laughed. “They do but they know better than to say anything.” He motioned to his mouth. “Harry’s willing to fight if he feels it’s necessary. Had his front tooth knocked out over a scrap about a bear hide. Never did understand the whole story, but something tells me he’d do it all over again.”
“Well, I see now why no one complained about the burnt food.” She glanced around the outdoor cook area. “Would you be willing to let me take over meals? I know it’s going to pull me away from the house and garden, but it might go a long way towards keeping your men alive.”
Holden chuckled, his shoulders relaxed. His hat rested on the table in front of him, and his eyes held slight crinkles at the corners. Her Ma would have called them happy streaks, if she were here.
“I think it would be fine to give Harry a break when you feel like cooking, but I’ll make it clear that he’s to take it back up any time you feel it’s too much.”
“That’s probably wise, but I’m used to cooking for a large group, so it’s not likely to be overwhelming.”
His forehead creased, his expression puzzled. “Do you have a lot of brothers and sisters?”
“No. I’m an only child.” Angelica realized she’d let a detail slip that she hadn’t intended, and Holden seemed intent on learning more. Smiling as she patted his hand with her palm, she said, “When shall we go shopping? I’m very excited.”
“Now, if you know what you need. Otherwise, I can take you on a tour of the cellar and food stores before we leave.”
“I wasn’t expecting a cellar. What’s in there?”
“Mostly just dried garlic and potatoes. Some jars of pickles that Tilly put up for me.”
“That’s it?” Angelica rubbed her neck, feeling stress settle there. Winter was coming and very little preparations had been made, or so it seemed. “Do you have what I need to put up food for the winter? Jars? A big canning pot?” She looked back to the stove behind her, judging its sturdiness. The entire outdoor area was set up quite well for the process, giving her some hope.
“I don’t. We can put that on the list.”
“What about your garden? What is the state there?”
Holden stood, reaching out his hand. “Would you like to see it?”
“I would.” Angelica took his outstretched hand, reveling in how natural that had begun to feel. She glanced backwards at the pile of dirty dishes, deciding that Harry might be more accepting of sweeping changes if she had a hearty, aromatic meal waiting for the crew to convince them.
“The garden has been a little neglected,” Holden said.
Drawing in a deep breath, Angelica braced herself for disappointment. She’d been taught to be extremely industrious while living amongst so many members of her father’s church, and her way of life had been ingrained. “We will manage.”
The garden was fenced, the gate well-oiled and sturdy. She stepped inside behind Holden, a broad smile turning up her lips when she saw the garden. A patch of strawberries had spread into the walkway, the leaves lush and green. Letting go of Holden’s hand to explore, she saw a variety of vegetables in abundance, giving her hope. “Well, it has some weeds to be tended to, but I’ll say it’s in pretty good shape.”
“How much do you know about putting up vegetables for the winter, Angelica?”
Her name on his lips sounded like dessert. Her heart skipped a beat, thoughts of his nearness crowding out the careful plans she was forming. “I’m quite competent. No need to worry. I think I see the scope of what needs doing and can plan for it.”
Holden stared at her, a puzzled expression. “You surprise me.” He grinned. “Well, you surprise me quite often, but I didn’t expect you to be familiar with gardening and food stores, since you worked in a textile mill.”
His mention of the mill reminded her of her promise to try to find dyes for Tilly’s dresses. Holden still looked at her with such rapt attention and curiosity about her past that she realized she’d given away more than she meant to.
Angelica’s heart beat faster, now from fear as she grasped for something safer to talk about, drawing a blank. “I was taught quite a few skills growing up.”
“You seem distracted. Is everything alright?” Holden held the gate open for her, waiting patiently as she took a final look around the garden before walking through.
“I was just thinking I’d like to get to know the area a little better and learn what grows wild here. Is that alright?”
Holden stiffened. “Please don’t go off anywhere unattended. It’s simply not safe.”
“You mean I can’t go to town or to see Tilly unless I have an escort?”
Holden shook his head. “No, and not an escort. Me.”
Angelia bristled. “I don’t understand. I will be careful.”
He sighed. “It’s not you or how capable you are. This area isn’t safe for a woman to roam unattended.”
“Does Tilly ever come to visit?”
Holden’s gaze held compassion. “She does, if she’s properly guarded. Sometimes I pick her up to stay for a few days, sometimes Paul brings her out.”
Angelica’s breath caught. “How can Paul properly guard her if it’s that dangerous?”
His jaw clenched, his expression grim. “He may be a one-armed preacher, but his aim with his left hand is still as deadly as it was with his right.”
Chilled by his words, Angelica’s view of her new home broadened to include a newfound fear. “I didn’t expect you to say that. Not about Preacher Paul.” Her voice sounded hoarse, her body tight.
“Why not?” His hands rested calmly at his sides, but something had tensed behind his eyes, challenging Angelica.
“Turn the other cheek?” She shook her head slightly, wondering wh
y she felt full of contradictions. She’d wanted Holden to be a fierce protector from what may be coming for her, but when it came down to it, her stance on actually carrying that out felt wobbly and uncertain.
Holden’s eyes glinted, hard and determined. “There is no turning the other cheek when someone threatens your wife or children. It’s the Cattleman’s way.” He held his hand out to her, waiting as if her reaching for him was a sign of her willingness to accept him the way he was.
The hand in front of her was steady, filled with strength and calluses and history that may astound her in ways she was afraid of, but the man behind it was softening her heart. She reached for him, holding on tight.
Chapter Eight
The town was much busier than Angelica expected, and she silently observed drivers and riders as they passed each other in the streets. Often, men slowed their horses to stare in her direction, making her edge closer to Holden on the wagon seat.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“The staring. It makes me uncomfortable.” She pulled her curls forward to cover the part of her always responsible for the unwanted attention.
“You’ll get used to it.”
“I’m not sure I will.”
He put an arm around her, squeezing her shoulder gently before returning his attention to the horses. “They’re staring because they don’t see many women here. They’ve gotten used to Tilly, and there are rancher’s wives spread out around the countryside, but still, it’s an unusual site for most.”
“Well, I certainly didn’t intend to stand out so much.”
He grinned, turning to flash his perfect smile at her. “A beautiful woman will always stand out, so it’s your cross to bear.”
She blushed, the heat creeping up her neck. She hadn’t been called beautiful by anyone other than her mother, and that was before the wound crossing her face. Shifting uncomfortably, she asked, “How often do you go to town for supplies?”
“Once a month, sometimes a little more often.”
“Oh.” Angelica was taken aback. “I didn’t realize it was that infrequent.”
Holden guided the horses to the side of the road near the town general store and set the brake. Jumping down with ease, he held his hand up for her. “We’re pretty self-sufficient on the ranch but I’m happy to bring you to town as often as you need, unless we’re on a cattle drive.”
Feet firmly on the ground, Angelica turned. “Wait, you will be leaving me alone to go on a cattle drive?”
Holden took off his hat, rubbing his forehead with his arm before replacing it on his head. “Well, now that you mention it, I’ll have to plan for you to have some company.”
She put her hand on his arm, waiting until he focused his gaze on her before asking, “Could I come with you?”
He shook his head firmly. “No. It’s too dangerous for a woman on the trail.” His lips were set in a firm line, signaling the matter was decided.
Angelica frowned, wanting to know more about the dangers but afraid to at the same time. Her life had changed so much it was almost unrecognizable. She was used to living in the city, working to support herself. Now she faced a world of frightening unknowns and lacked the ability to care for herself beyond tending the garden or managing the small ranch house. Frustration washed over her.
“Just pick out whatever you like, no need to ask. I’ll be back soon.” Holden held the door open for her and smiled, waiting until she had passed through to address the merchant. “Oliver, this here is my bride, Angelica.”
The man nodded, his eyes darting from Holden to a man in the back of the store. Angelica saw the merchant’s hand resting on a rifle barrel, causing cold prickles of fear to rise on the back of her neck. Holden moved to stand between her and the stranger, his strong shoulders blocking her view.
“Ain’t she a sight for sore eyes?” The man sidestepped, trying to get a view of Angelica as Holden stiffened.
Oliver lifted the rifle, aiming it at the customer. “You’d best just move along, drifter.”
Holding his hands up and laughing, the man said, “You don’t have much to offer in this town, anyhow.” He moved past Holden, keeping just out of arm’s reach, leaving with a rough laugh.
Shaking his head and muttering a little, Oliver put the gun down in front of him but kept his hand on it. “That one’s new in town but about to be run off by the sheriff. Had an incident at Hog Ranch that got him kicked out.” He glanced at Angelica, blushing up to his bald spot. “Ma’am, nice to meet you.”
Angelica smiled politely. “Pleased to meet you.”
“As I was saying, please give my bride whatever she wants, even if I’m not with her. Just put it on my tab, and I’ll settle up when I see you.” He looked down at her, his face softening. “I’ll stay while you shop, but don’t pay me any mind.”
He nodded at the aisles of supplies, most covered in dust. “Cooking gear is over there.”
She picked up her skirt, carefully avoiding the dirty floor as she headed straight for the canning supplies. She knew her way around a camp kitchen quite well, and planned her purchases around both putting up winter supplies and cooking decent meals for the large group of men her husband employed.
Thoughts of the past brought discomfort, but if she went back a little further, back to when her parents were still alive and things were almost the utopia they had planned, it eased the pain a little.
“Is that pot the wrong size? You’ve been staring at it for a while.” Holden watched her as she shook her head, pulling herself out of her memories.
“It’s perfect.” She put a smile on her face. “What I really need is a long-handled ladle, and this skillet would work fine.”
Holden took the items she pointed out and placed them in a wooden crate Oliver had surreptitiously placed near the counter for them. He asked Oliver to pack up coffee beans and sugar while he waited for her to browse the food supplies.
“Is this too much?” She placed dried beans and salt in the crate, feeling hesitant to spend money she hadn’t earned. She had some tucked away in her trunk, but something told her Holden would be offended if she offered it up to him.
“Not at all. Should we get some preserves and flour, too?” He looked at her hopefully, as if he had planned for her to make a dessert of some sort.
Laughing, she said, “Absolutely. I’ll make you anything you want, as long as I know how.”
Oliver grunted. “Don’t tell Miss Inez of your plans to spoil this one by cooking for him. She’s quite fond of him for some reason.”
Holden suppressed a smile, scanning the store. “Oliver, do you have any hats in stock that will fit my wife?”
“I’ve got one just about her size.” He pulled a Stetson from behind the counter, holding it out. “Tan alright?”
Angelica blushed, taking it from Oliver. She’d never had a hat like it before, and it was kind of Holden to think of it. She put it on and turned to him. “What do you think?”
He stared at her, raising his hand as if he wanted to touch her face. “We match.” He straightened her brim instead.
“Thank you.”
“Ugh. You two lovebirds get on out of here before you attract sugar ants. Go on, now. I’ll settle up with you later.” He picked up the crate and handed it to Holden, speaking in a low tone. “That fellow has friends. Might as well get the lady home before they decide to cause trouble.”
Holden shifted the crate to one arm and opened the door. “Sure thing. Thank you, Oliver.” He held the door long enough for Angelica to clear her skirts, then quickly loaded up the crate while scanning their surroundings. “Here, let me help you get in.”
The small town was nearly silent as they drove through it, the air charged. Angelica held her questions until the buildings were no longer visible, speaking softly. “Holden, is this the sort of thing that makes it unsafe for a woman to go on a cattle drive?”
His shoulders slightly hunched as he kept tight control of the horses, Holden scanned
the horizon again before responding. “Not exactly. The worry I have for you stems from much bigger threats. The man back there was a troublemaker, no doubt, but a manageable threat.”
She weighed his words, rolling them around in her mind as the wagon wheels turned. “I appreciate that you want to protect me from harm. I don’t understand all of the threats around, but I don’t think I want to know all the details.”
He turned his head slightly, his expression somber. “Some things are hard to get out of your head. I’ll keep watch over you, you have my word.”
Hesitantly, she slid closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder for a moment until the jostling of the wagon became too distracting. Being in his presence made her feel secure and stronger than she had in a long time.
“Holden?”
He turned, their brief eye contact enough for her to see the pain harbored there. “Did you fight in the war?”
He nodded, though he didn’t seem to want to say more. Angelica’s eyes welled, knowing that he likely bore scars of his own kind. “I’m sorry.”
“I pray we never fight brother against brother again.” He stared ahead, the bunk house row quiet and empty as they passed.
“Did you lose family?” The thought filled her with horror, though she’d been a teenager when the fighting ended.
“Every man in my regiment who died was a brother. The casualties of war go beyond the scope of something that can be justified as right or wrong. Men killing other men will never be right.” He turned to her. “Did you lose anyone in the war?” His eyes held hers, the expression there guarded.
“No. Not in the war.”
He stopped the wagon in front of the house but stayed seated. “How, then?”
Angelica wanted to keep her past locked up tight, but one look at Holden’s compassionate face and she felt something inside soften. She didn’t like feeling vulnerable, but the strength she saw in him made her want to open up. “I lost my parents around the time the war ended. They were in a carriage accident and they died together.” Her stomach cramped, the pain fresh and raw.
Mail-Order Mismatch: Brides of Burlington County, Book Two Page 5