Coming From California (The Pioneer Brides 0f Rattlesnake Ridge Book 2)

by Catherine Bilson

  “Breakfast is at seven a.m. and supper is at six p.m., sharp,” Miz May said, turning toward the door. “You can get dinner for yourself, if you’ve got a mind to. The bakery’s just along from the saloon, one building further down Hill Street. Just cross over Main.”

  “Which one is Main Street?” As far as she could see, Rattlesnake Ridge only had two proper streets, though there’d been a number of alleys running back from the road they’d driven in on.

  Miz May’s lips turned up at that. “Not the one you took to come here. That’s Hill Street.” She nodded once at Daisy before leaving her alone and closing the door.

  Surveying the room, Daisy allowed herself a small sigh before taking off her bonnet, dumping it on the bed, and moving over toward the closed window. The room felt a little stuffy, so she figured some fresh air might help. Wrestling with the stiff latch for a moment, she finally managed to loosen it and push the window open. Her room faced out onto what Miz May had called Hill Street; Daisy looked out to see a large herd of cattle coming along the street obviously heading for the railroad.

  There were a couple of cowboys herding the cattle. The one closest to her, a big man astride a sweating chestnut, expertly headed the cattle off from meandering down Main Street with a holler and a couple of cracks of his whip.

  “Easy, Jack,” his partner called from the other side of the herd. Daisy had a better view of the second man since he wasn’t directly below her. She drew in a slightly shocked breath. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a man so handsome; he had black hair which flopped on his forehead as he removed his hat to wave away a persistent fly, darkly tanned skin, and sharply carved cheekbones. As though aware of her scrutiny, he suddenly looked directly at her.

  Daisy froze with shock.

  The handsome cowboy smiled at her, a flash of white teeth in that tanned face. “Good afternoon, beautiful,” he called as he bowed in his saddle to her.

  More than a little outraged at being addressed so by a complete stranger, Daisy pulled away from the window with a huff, ignoring a deep-throated laugh from below. Face flaming, she stomped away, going to unlock her trunk and throwing open the lid. She should be unpacking anyway, not staring at handsome cowboys riding past.

  That didn’t stop her traitorous mind from lingering on memories of that smile.

  Chapter 2

  “You can chase skirt once we’ve gotten these cattle delivered!” Jack Hollis yelled.

  Luke Rockford laughed deeply at his best friend’s insinuation. He didn’t think the beautiful young woman who’d stood at the window was the kind of ‘skirt’ who’d take well to being chased. Especially considering the expression of outrage she’d worn when he’d called out to her.

  “You’re the one with a pretty lass in Rattlesnake Ridge,” Luke shouted back and had the satisfaction of seeing Jack flush red under his tan.

  “She’s not my lass! And you’d best keep a respectful tongue in your head when you speak of Mrs. Jones!”

  “Not your lass, but there’s only one name that jumps to mind,” Luke teased, glancing at the window where he’d seen the beautiful stranger. He wondered idly what the woman’s name was and what she was doing in Rattlesnake Ridge; he figured he’d have plenty of time to find out.

  Maybe she was one of those mail-order brides Jacob Winthrop had said he planned to advertise for. In which case, she definitely wasn’t intended for the likes of Luke. He hadn’t put his name down on the list Winthrop had passed around. A man had to have a house of his own and a steady job to even be considered. Luke Rockford didn’t qualify.

  Jack cracked his whip again, ignoring Luke’s comment. They’d just spent twelve days on a trail together with nothing but their horses and a hundred and sixty head of cattle for company. They were starting to get on each other’s nerves. “Come on, let’s get these cattle to the yards and pick up our pay!”

  Luke chuckled under his breath, but he let the subject drop. He’d have plenty of opportunities later to tease Jack about his infatuation for the lovely widow.

  Half an hour later, the two men rode back the other way, laughing and talking. They were headed to Garrett’s Bank to pick up their pay. Then they both planned to wash, eat, and head for Dobson’s Saloon. Whiskey beckoned to wash the dust of the trail from their mouths.

  He did find himself peeking at the boarding house window as they passed by, wondering who the young beauty with the long dark hair was. He’d find out her name tonight, find out if she was as far out of his league as he feared. He wasn’t getting any younger, and the thought of settling down somewhere with a good woman was beginning to sound more appealing by the day.

  Almost as though his thoughts had summoned her, the young woman appeared at the window again, shaking out… was that a petticoat? Luke’s grin spread. “Looking for me, darling?” he called up to her. “Love the show.”

  “Ohhh!” Her outraged gasp was audible as she retreated inside and slammed the window.

  Jack’s laughter joined Luke’s this time. “You’re never gonna have a chance with her if you keep insultin’ her like that,” Jack chuckled as they dismounted in front of the bank, one of the four buildings on the crossroads, and hitched their horses.

  “Prob’ly don’t have a chance with her anyways,” Luke replied with a shrug and a grin. “That outrage sure was purty, though.”

  Jack laughed harder as they entered the bank, earning them a suspicious look from the teller. They both set down their letters of claim in front of him. The letters were signed by Luke’s stepfather Mr. Simpson, owner of one of the biggest ranches in the whole of Nevada.

  “Here to collect our pay, sir,” Luke said.

  The man peered down at the letters and pushed his glasses up his nose. “You’ll need to see Mr. Garrett to authorize this amount,” he said in a nasal voice after a few minutes.

  “Then you’d better go get him,” Luke replied evenly, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. Something seemed off about the teller’s attitude.

  “He won’t be in until ten tomorrow morning.” The man’s smile was smug as he pushed the letters back. Before Luke could ask about Garrett’s whereabouts, the teller said, “I trust you can show yourselves out. Have a good evening, gentlemen.”

  From the corner of his eye, Luke saw Jack’s fists clench. He knew his partner was considering punching the teller. Reaching out, he touched Jack’s forearm lightly. Violence wouldn’t get them what they wanted, satisfying as it might be.

  “Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” a deep voice drawled behind them.

  “No, Deputy Watson.” Luke knew who it was without even turning around. “No problem at all.” He gathered the letters, returned Jack’s, and took his time folding his own, tucking it into his coat before turning.

  Deputy Sheriff Grant Watson was a tall man who knew how to use his height to his advantage. He stood straight-backed with his head high, silver star shining on the breast of his black coat. His eyes glittered like polished black pebbles as he met Luke’s gaze.

  “Rockford,” Watson stated, his deep voice flat, his expression displeased. “I see you’re back in town.”

  “I see you’re still in town,” Luke replied, refusing to allow his dislike for the other man to show.

  “Always.”

  The two men stared at each other for a long, silent moment, until Jack tugged lightly on Luke’s sleeve. “We should get going, Luke. Good day to you, Deputy.” Jack’s words broke the staring match.

  “Mr. Hollis.”

  Jack was the only man in the area taller than Grant Watson, if only by an inch or two, but it was clear the deputy didn’t care for the fact. He took a long step sideways and back so he didn’t have to look up to meet Jack’s eyes.

  Silently, Luke stepped into the space Watson had left. The two cowboys exited the bank without a backward glance.

  “I know he doesn’t care for me because he’s a petty sort who doesn’t like me being taller than him,” Jack said quietly as they collected their
horses and headed first to the stables and then the boarding house, “but what did you do to rile him? Ever since I’ve known you, you all’ve hated each other’s guts.”

  “Not here,” was all Luke said in response. It wasn’t until they were settled into the usual twin room they shared at the boarding house that he was a little more forthcoming. “Watson is Garrett’s nephew. His mom married some highfalutin politician, and they moved East, bought their son a fancy education. Sent him back here just so’s he wouldn’t have to fight in the war.”

  “Coward,” Jack sneered. Both he and Luke had fought for the Union and had the scars to prove it: Jack’s in a long scar down his chin which tugged his smile decidedly off-center, Luke’s on his back where a Confederate musket ball had skidded off his ribs. That was where they’d met, saving each other’s lives at Kennesaw Mountain and covering each other’s backs ever since.

  “Yeah, well.” Luke stripped off his dusty jacket and shirt, hanging them up on pegs on the wall. “I met him just before I left to join up. Smart-mouthed kid of, oh, he was about twenty then I s’pose. Full of himself and his fancy education. When I came back four years later, he had the deputy’s job.”

  “Ah,” Jack said with dawning understanding, and Luke knew he’d figured it out. Luke had been deputy sheriff in Sierra County before he left to join the Union Army. He’d fully expected to return and step back into his old role, maybe be sheriff himself before too long. Finding a man five years his junior had taken his position really hadn’t sat well with him. “He thinks you want his job.”

  “He knows darn well I want his job. Garrett shook my hand, patted me on the back, and told me the position was mine if I made it back.” Luke dunked the washcloth into the bowl of water, soaped it, and began to vigorously wash his face. “That cocky little swine Watson was two years into the job. Garrett said he hadn’t had the power to promise me anything and claimed the new sheriff couldn’t take the appointment away once it was awarded.”

  Jack winced, pouring his own wash water. “Take it you weren’t happy?”

  “I nearly punched his lying teeth in.” Luke scrubbed at his black hair, rinsing it in the water, before fishing in his saddlebags for his razor and peering at his bearded face in the tiny mirror. “Deputy sheriff ain’t an elected position, so I couldn’t run against Watson. And after what McCullough did last year, I figured he earned the sheriff’s position. I wasn’t going to run against him, anyways.”

  “You still should’ve put Watson six feet under.” Jack scrubbed hard at his dirty face, grimacing as the wash water turned black.

  “Maybe would’ve if my ma hadn’t married Mr. S by then, and he hadn’t stepped in and offered me a job on his ranch instead.”

  “You could’ve gone somewhere else,” Jack said hesitantly, watching as Luke began to scrape away his beard. “Found another job…”

  “Where? There were experienced soldiers all over the country going home looking for work. This is my home. I grew up right here in Rattlesnake Ridge. My pa died in the mine accident. I might be the last Rockford left, but they’ll have to carry me out in a box.” Luke turned and gave Jack a wry smile. “And then you were here too, wondering if I could help you find work, and Mr. S offered to take you on as long as I was willing to vouch for you. Had to stay after that, didn’t I? Especially since you took one look at Barb and lost your heart.”

  Jack flicked water off his washcloth at Luke. “Shut up about Mrs. Jones.”

  Luke chuckled then carried on shaving. “Then shut up about Grant Watson. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  Jack grinned and returned to his own wash and shave. “All right. Let’s just think about good food, good whiskey, and a soft bed to sleep in, at long last.”

  “Amen to that!” Luke agreed heartily. He paused, looking at the small cloth-wrapped bundle he’d just taken from one of his saddlebags. “What do you think we should do with this?” He lowered his voice instinctively, even though he knew nobody could possibly overhear them.

  Jack stilled, lowering his razor. “Split it up?” he suggested. “We got a few pieces. If we carry a couple each, wrap the others in linens or put ‘em under the mattresses…”

  Luke nodded, agreeing with the plan. Until they could find out if the ore samples they’d found were worth anything, they needed to make sure they were kept safe. Unwrapping the bundle, he began separating out the pieces of ore and secreting them around the room, keeping a few of the smaller pieces to stow in their pockets.

  When he finished, he sat down on one of the beds and tried to still the hope welling up inside. If their find panned out, that dream of his of a wife and family might not be just a dream. Maybe with that woman he saw shaking out her petticoat. Wouldn’t that be something? He could see himself with a woman like that, a pretty, respectable lady with a smile on her face as she sat beside him in church.

  Maybe there’d even be another Rockford to carry on his family name in Rattlesnake Ridge, after all.

  Chapter 3

  Slamming the window furiously, Daisy stood with her hand to her chest, heart pounding. She couldn’t believe what had just happened; how rude that cowboy had been! She sternly ignored the small voice of her conscience which whispered she shouldn’t have been shaking her petticoat out of her window. That was the kind of thing which could get her labeled as a loose woman if she wasn’t careful.

  With a sigh, she hung the petticoat up on a hook. It was the one she’d worn that day to travel and had been covered in dust. The one she’d worn on the train to Reno the previous day was no better. She’d need to ask Miz May if the town had a laundry. And how much that would cost.

  Biting her lip, she looked at her carpet bag sitting by the armoire; she didn’t have much money left. She wasn’t sure when her wages would start to be paid, or even if she’d be allowed to stay. Mr. Dobson hadn’t exactly seemed approving, and the nameless man from the carriage seemed to think the mayor wouldn’t want her teaching here once he knew about her ancestry.

  A scratch on her door made her lift her chin proudly. She was just as perfectly qualified for the position as she’d stated in her letter; there hadn’t been a single lie in it, not even an exaggeration.

  Isabelle Jones stood outside the door when Daisy opened it. The little girl showed dimples as she smiled up at Daisy. “Mama says the tea is ready.”

  Barbara wasn’t about to take no for answer, Daisy realized. “I’ll be right there, Isabelle.”

  “I like your dress,” Isabelle said shyly as they walked the few steps to the Jones family’s door.

  “Thank you! I like yours too,” Daisy confided, making Isabelle’s grin widen.

  “Mama sewed it for me. I’m not very good at sewing,” Isabelle whispered.

  “We can’t all be good at the same things,” Daisy said as Isabelle let her into the room, “Think how boring life would be if everyone was the same!”

  Barb smiled at her, setting the teapot on the table. “That’s a wonderful sentiment, Miss Daisy.”

  “Nothing but the Good Lord’s truth, Barb.” Daisy watched carefully to see if the informal address was truly all right with the other woman. It was if the subtle nod was anything to go by. “For He made us all different, did He not? We are all His works, and all special and unique in our own ways. Trying to make everyone be exactly the same is criticizing His creations.”

  “I shall have to introduce you to our preacher, Miss Daisy.” Barb’s blue eyes twinkled.

  “Oh dear… will he think I am a hopeless heretic?” Daisy took the seat Ishmael held out for her, thanking him politely as she sat down.

  “No, he won’t. He’s old-fashioned about some things but open-minded about others. He’s not a fire-and-thunder type.” Barb seated herself and lifted the teapot. “Yes, darlings, you may have a cookie each,” she told the twins, who promptly dove for a plate on the table covered with a napkin, “after you’ve served Miss Daisy one, that is.”

  Daisy stifled a chuckle as they froze, and the
n Ishmael hesitantly offered her the plate. “Thank you very much, Ishmael.” She accepted a cookie as well as the tea with lemon Barb poured for her.

  “When do you think the school will be ready?” Isabelle asked around a mouthful of cookie.

  “Soon, I hope.” She didn’t want to get more specific until she knew how much work needed to be done. “I’m very much looking forward to meeting the rest of my pupils. In fact, everyone in Rattlesnake Ridge has been so nice to me.” Except for that rude man on the stage and the inappropriate cowboy, she thought, but then in all likelihood they were only passing through. She’d probably never see either of them again.

  She lost track of time talking with Barb and the children. Enough time that when a bell rang somewhere in the building, she couldn’t imagine what it was for.

  “That’s the supper bell,” Barb told her with a grin. “You should sit with us. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

  “I would very much like that, thank you.” Daisy was relieved she wouldn’t have to walk alone into a room full of strangers.

  “That’s good. I have to go to work right afterward, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh?” Daisy wondered about that as they walked down the stairs, Isabelle and Ishmael each holding one of her hands. “Where do you work?” she asked a little hesitantly, unable to think what job might require Barb to work in the late evenings.

  “I play piano and sing at Dobson’s Saloon,” Barb held her head high and met Daisy’s eyes with a clear challenge. “It’s respectable work.” She placed a faint but determined emphasis on the word respectable. “I sing in the church choir, too.”

  “I see.” It must be an unusual saloon. Or at least, unlike any she’d seen in the goldfields. But then, this wasn’t the goldfields; this was a town full of decent, hardworking folks despite the silver mine close by… some things were bound to be different. She smiled to let Barb know she didn’t think any less of her for it. “You must have two very different repertoires for the saloon and the church!”