Not wanting to see the feminine garments any longer, she repacked the clothing and shoved the trunk under the overhang of the quilt. Her largest trunk would have to remain at the end of the bed.
Her mind and body itched for something to do besides think. She gathered cleaning materials and started scrubbing. She finished scouring the floor, washing the windows, and beating the tick before her stomach told her it was time for dinner. After a simple meal of leftover chicken and bread was prepared, she called out to Everett, but he didn’t come, nor was he in the yard or barn. She should have asked him what hours he kept before he left.
An hour later, she threw the scraps into the chicken yard. The moon blazed white in a sea of purple and pink, yet Everett had yet to return.
Would he bed down in the barn? It wasn’t right for him to give up his bed for an animal’s stall, but she didn’t want to think about what would happen if he didn’t. The one bed was excessively narrow. Why hadn’t he told her when he’d return or what he expected? Was he regretting his decision as much as she was?
The only thing she could work on in the dim lantern light while she waited was his mending. Her muscles ached to recline, but the straight-back kitchen chair did not oblige. Her eyes strained to keep tabs on her stitches as she darned her first sock.
No telling how her patch job would look until the sun rose, but she continued until the toe felt serviceable. A few lonely stars hung in the deep navy sky peeking in through the single windowpane.
She threw the sock in tomorrow’s laundry pile. Her back screamed for relief, and her eyes had been at half-mast for the last hour.
Was sleeping on his bed appropriate? Lying across the soft quilt, she enjoyed stretching the muscles in her back. If he didn’t bed down in the barn, he could wake her when he returned and tell her where she should sleep. Let him make the decision. She didn’t want to talk about it.
Everett rubbed his black horse’s neck. “Good night, Blaze. I can’t stay outside any longer.”
All afternoon and evening he had worked hard. Off in the fields, the barn, the spot where he would build the new house—all to stay away from the cabin. But the flicker of the lamp through its window both called to him and repelled him.
A lump stuck in his throat. No more dawdling. He didn’t feel right making his wife sleep in the barn like she had at the Stantons’. And he wouldn’t be caught sleeping in a stall if a neighbor came by for help. As he had every few minutes of the day, he imagined sleeping next to her, waking next to her. He couldn’t handle that.
He grabbed the old straw tick he’d just finished restuffing and marched to the house.
Of course, he knew what the opinion of some men in town would be about his sleeping on the floor. They’d laugh at him for not taking what was rightfully his. He couldn’t deny the temptation of the idea. Though a piece of paper joined them as man and wife, nothing else of substance connected them. What was she really like? Everett gnawed on his lip. He hadn’t worked on building a relationship with her, believing she wouldn’t stick around.
But she had. Yet no love existed between them. Not even friendship.
His fault.
The broken door made little noise as he closed it. A soft snore permeated the room. Julia’s frame lay catty-corner across the bed. Her shoes were still on, their tiny soles poking out from under several layers of skirts.
Her face looked weary, though she was sleeping soundly.
He dumped his tick in the corner and made his way over to her. Squatting beside her, he tried to remove her shoes, but the little buttons stymied him, so he left them alone. He wouldn’t be able to slip his pillow out from under her without waking her. She’d bunched both under her head.
He grabbed her tablecloth off the table and folded it for a pillow. He tromped outside and grabbed the horse’s blanket.
Though the door opened and closed numerous times, she didn’t so much as move. He lowered himself onto the floor and tried to make the blanket cover the majority of his body. Her rhythmic breathing was both unsettling and comforting. He was no longer alone. But he didn’t feel any less lonely curled on the floor across from the bed.
Once his vision adjusted to the dark, he tried to make out her face.
Her generous lips and the dark rim of eyelashes curving on her cheeks were barely discernible. Her hair, loose and wavy, blended with the shadows. The desire to twirl her hair around his fingers would keep him awake, so he turned to the wall and willed himself to sleep.
Julia stretched and turned toward the light. Rays of morning sun illuminated the dingy room. The door stood ajar. She pulled the quilt over her head.
Bolting upright, she squinted beside her, then around the room.
The tablecloth lay wadded up in the corner atop a small tick she was sure hadn’t been in the cabin yesterday. So that’s where he’d slept. If her feet had complained about their sleeping arrangements, she was sure Everett’s muscles hollered at him for how they’d been treated. How could one sleep with no coverings on a plank floor with large drafty gaps?
No food smells filled the room, only whiffs of coffee.
She wiggled her toes against her boots, her feet angry with how they’d been kept all night. She wrapped the quilt around herself for warmth and walked to the door.
At the well, a single crow perched at its edge. The oxen tore grass in the nearby pasture. No Everett. Surely he wasn’t going to try to pretend they didn’t live together. She made more coffee, scrambled some eggs, and waited.
She ate her food before it grew cold and stared at the tick and tablecloth on the floor in the corner.
A few hours later, she threw Everett’s cold eggs into the chicken yard and tromped to the barn. “Ready to go, boys?” she murmured to the oxen while fumbling with hooking them to the wagon. “I sure am.”
Chapter 9
Everett’s stomach growled. He’d been stupid to leave without breakfast, but he hadn’t wanted to wake his wife. Her sleeping face looked happier than before he’d blown out the lamp last night.
She’d have plenty of days in the future to wake ahead of the rooster’s crow. One day off wouldn’t hurt anything. She’d have their whole lifetime together to work.
Whistling a tune in time with the horse’s steps, he turned Blaze up the familiar path. The rabbits he’d shot hung from his saddle and bounced against his legs. He might not feel like he could fully handle being around her, but he could start the process of showing Julia she didn’t have to dread a relationship with him. He would begin with gifts—what could be gleaned from the prairie, anyway. Nothing he could afford would impress a city woman. Not one who wore a traveling dress that cost more than Rachel Stanton’s entire wardrobe.
Hopefully Julia knew a good way to prepare rabbit. He’d skin them for her before heading out to the fields. At the paddock he let Blaze in to graze and walked into the shack.
The small room was empty, her quilt twisted in a heap at the foot of the bed. She’d made eggs for breakfast, but there were none leftover. He put his shotgun above the door and laid the rabbits on the table. Heading to the well, bucket in hand, he glanced around, listening for her.
He quit whistling. Was she in the barn?
He pulled the overlarge door open. The interior’s stillness caused the hair on his neck to stand at attention. His empty hands clenched, and he wished his gun still resided within his grip. Dimple and Curly were not in their stalls. The wagon no longer waited against the north wall. Everett chewed on the side of his cheek and checked his desire to swear.
She’d left him. Just like the other brides. But this one had the audacity to take his team with her.
He glared at the straw-littered floor and gritted his teeth. His savings weren’t enough to replace the team, tack, and wagon and still have enough to see him through the winter if his crops failed. She could have left him without causing so much trouble. Sure, he’d be made fun of, left unable to marry again, and without help. But how dare she take his liveliho
od with her?
He raced over to Blaze. “Sorry to cut your break short, boy, but we’ve got a woman to chase down.”
Everett kicked Blaze to a gallop. Ahead, Julia’s bonnet ribbons flitted behind her as she drove the team toward Salt Flatts. Thankfully, she hadn’t tried to forge off in another direction, or he might not have found her. Relief, crippled with anger, surged through his body. He pushed Blaze faster.
Had she planned to leave his team unattended at the train depot? Any number of drifters or boomers would have stolen them once they realized no one claimed the wagon.
Blaze’s hooves thundered as he neared Julia. She yanked on the reins. The wrong thing to do. But thankfully, Dimples and Curly barely changed speed.
Everett’s body tensed as he called, “Whoa.”
His well-behaved team settled to a stop. He turned hard in his saddle to glare at her. “Why take my oxen? Didn’t you realize I would need them?” Blaze pranced under him, so he relaxed the pressure his legs exerted on the horse’s sides.
Her eyes grew rounder. “I didn’t know. You . . . didn’t have them with you, so . . . I figured it’d be all right.”
“You figured that would be all right?” He tempered his voice, not wanting to yell at a woman. “I can’t work without them.”
“But you didn’t use them yesterday.” She played with the neckline of her dress. Couldn’t the woman leave her collar alone?
“And so if I don’t use them once in a while, I don’t need them anymore?” Blaze sidestepped again. Everett pulled on the horse’s reins with more jerk than necessary. “Did you not think someone would steal my team if you just left them hitched to a post? You could have at least ridden to the Stantons’ and had them take you to town instead of abandoning my animals in Salt Flatts.”
“Why would I abandon them?” Her face had lost its pretty pink color.
He almost wanted to apologize for causing her to pale, but he wouldn’t, not when she ought to feel bad.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Wouldn’t they be fine for a few minutes in front of the general store?” Her brows met in the middle, and she cocked her head. “Or did you think . . .” Her face relaxed, and she placed a finger to her lips.
His heart sidestepped with Blaze. Hot shame crept up his neck. “So you weren’t going to ride away with my team?” He swallowed hard. “You . . . weren’t going to take the train?”
She tilted her head and laid both hands in her lap. “Did you think I was leaving? With no trunk?” One eyelid was lower than the other. Adorable and maddening.
He glanced in the back. Nothing but dirt and straw filled the corners. “Uh . . .”
She turned her head to look toward the team. “You were not around yesterday, and you didn’t let me know where you were going this morning.” She played with the leather straps in her hands and continued in a soft voice. “I figured I needed to be about my work. I would have asked you, if I knew where you were, but . . . We needed supplies, but I didn’t . . . think.” She fiddled with the reins. “I shouldn’t have taken the wagon.”
He squirmed in the saddle, wishing he hadn’t run after her in a fury. “I’m sorry that I thought—”
“I wasn’t running, Everett.” Her head shook decisively, and she took a slow breath before turning to him. “But now that you’re here, would you like me to purchase supplies with my own money or your credit? I would have asked earlier, but . . .”
Could he feel any more of a fool? She was doing as he wanted, looking after his homestead without being asked, and in a blind rage, he’d called her a thief. Giving her more reason to find him contemptible. Good start at curing her fear of men.
“My credit, of course. Carl will do that for you, no questions.”
She nodded and collected the reins. “Will you be joining me in town?”
He ached to flee her presence more than his stomach yearned for food. “No, thank you. I have work at home.”
“I made a list. Would you like to check it over and see if you need to add anything?”
“Uh . . . no.” He coughed and attempted to pull his voice down an octave, back into its normal range. “You just get whatever you think we need.” Even if she used more credit than his crops would bring in this summer, he wouldn’t say a thing.
“Thank you, Everett.”
He couldn’t even look at her. “No need to thank me.” She had nothing to thank him for. He swallowed hard. “I’m right sorry that I assumed you were leaving. It’s just that . . .” She didn’t need to know how many other women had found him not good enough to stick around for. “I’m sorry.”
He tipped his hat at her nod and kicked Blaze’s flanks for home. He ought to go with her into town for supplies, but he just couldn’t.
When Julia returned home yesterday, Everett had apologized again, but the second the words were out of his mouth, he’d fled to the barn. Whatever had possessed the man to think she’d run away? Didn’t he realize she’d not have become a mail-order bride if she had tons of options for her life? She had married and given up her last name for his. She was stuck.
She flipped her potato cake over, the hot oil popping out of the skillet and burning her hand for a short second. Maybe stuck wasn’t a very good word to use around Everett. It would play to her advantage for him not to know she had nowhere to go and that her continued presence relied on how he treated her. That would keep him from pushing to become intimate anytime soon. Then once a pattern of nonphysical friendship became routine, they would simply continue the habit. She hoped it would be that simple.
She set the table and sliced some bread. A quick glance out the window revealed no Everett.
He said he’d return for lunch. Was his promise empty? Empty promises were not good. If he couldn’t keep this small one, why would he keep the one she’d wrangled out of him when she agreed to marry him?
Shouts in the yard snatched her attention, and she stepped out the door. A wagon pulled around the barn. It wasn’t the Stantons.
Her teeth bit into her lip. She didn’t feel comfortable welcoming people into the house without Everett. The shack didn’t feel like her place yet. More like she was intruding upon the dilapidated structure. She wiped her hands on her apron and forced herself outside.
“Ho there, neighbor!” A vaguely familiar skinny man stood and jumped off his seat. A shiver ran down her spine; this man’s slimy leer had given her gooseflesh at the barn raising.
“Hello, Ned.” Everett’s voice boomed from her right. He came around the corner and swiped off his hat. “Helga, good morning.”
Julia heaved a sigh of relief. The silent woman had been hidden by her husband on the bench seat. Welcoming her into the house would have been fine, but her husband . . . Julia stepped into the sun and smiled, but the smell of burning potatoes stopped her. “Food! Excuse me.” She ran back in to scrape the cakes off the pan. She frowned at her two slightly charred lumps of potatoes.
The group of three stepped through the door.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have enough for everyone, but give me a moment and I’ll make more.” Scowling at the two blackened disks she and Everett would be eating, she grabbed another few spuds and began peeling the skins off in long curls.
“We’ve already eaten, ma’am.” Ned held his hat in his hand, his mouth in a crooked smile.
She stopped halfway through the potato. Like the eyes of the patrons at Halson’s bar, where she’d learned to cook, Ned’s squinty eyes roved over her body while he talked. “But I could always use more lunch if you’re offering. I bet you couldn’t help but make everything taste sweet.”
The panic swirling in her gut was the exact reason she’d decided to get married. Ned could look, but if he touched, her husband would teach him a lesson. She glanced at Everett. His frown was definitely directed at Ned, but he indicated with his head that she should offer the Parkers food.
She smiled at the heavy, drooping woman. “Helga? Shall I make you some?”
The group settled about the table while Julia scrambled potatoes together.
Ned leaned back in his chair. “I had to shoot two coyotes this morning. They were after my sheep. They killed a lamb before I could even get out of bed and grab the gun.” At the sound of his spitting on the floor, Julia turned and saw the dark stain near his boot. Everett shook his head slightly, his eyes pointedly telling her to refrain from speaking. She gritted her teeth, turned, and dumped the potato mixture into the pan. How dare Ned spit on her clean floor.
“You’re the best tanner in these parts,” Ned said. “Hate for the furs to go to waste. Haven’t ever taken care of one.” He let the chair legs thump to the ground. “I know this is awfully inconvenient, but thought you might help me before the sun goes down. We’d leave Helga here.” His tone of voice clearly indicated he regarded his wife as a nuisance.
Julia scraped the pan and glanced at Mrs. Parker in the corner shadows. She looked more vulnerable and defeated than she had the day of the barn raising. Julia suppressed the indignation the hefty woman didn’t display. Since Ned made her skin crawl with his very presence, maybe she couldn’t read the situation correctly. Perhaps he did right by Helga and she was simply reserved.
“You didn’t bring them with you?” At Ned’s shake of the head, Everett’s face darkened. “You skinned them already?”
“No, but they ain’t but a few hours old.”
“Next time, you ought to skin them as soon as they’re dead. The skins come off easier.”
The group ate in silence. As soon as the men’s plates were clean, Everett followed Ned out the door. So much for talking over tonight’s plans.
Helga’s fingers fiddled with the button on her shabby blouse. “I sorry, Mrs. Cline, if I am inconvenient.”
A Bride for Keeps Page 10