Her Unexpected Destiny_Seeing Ranch series

by Florence Linnington

  “And where are you from?”

  “Philadelphia,” Helen inserted as she opened the front door. “Kitty was a mail-order bride, like you.”

  Allie looked at Kitty with interest. “I heard there are a handful of women here who had come here that way.”

  A slew of questions burned in Allie’s mind. Had Kitty been scared upon coming to Shallow Springs? Did she get along with her husband? How close had she come to be with him? Had she, perhaps, even fallen in love with him?

  They were questions of deep intimacy, but Allie hoped she might be able to bring them up at some point. Not that day, but perhaps in the future.

  As the house contained a nice number of windows, the front room was full of light. Helen pulled out a chair for Allie as Kitty went to an ice box.

  “I feel that it is awfully warm for regular tea,” she said. “Which is why I have some that I chilled. I can certainly make you hot tea, though.”

  “No,” Allie laughed. “Cold is lovely, thank you.”

  Kitty poured three tall glasses and set them on the table, where Helen already watched Allie with a sparkling intensity.

  “You attend church a lot,” Helen commented.

  Kitty clucked. “Helen.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Helen gave Allie an apologetic look. “That was rude. Please, forgive me.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Allie answered, wrapping her fingers around the glass that had already begun to chill. “Church is important to me. I was hardly ever able to attend it in New York, so I am glad there is a nice one here.”

  “Because you worked on Sundays?” Helen asked.

  Allie looked at her in surprise. She’d gotten the impression that, in Shallow Springs, toiling on the day of rest was unheard of.

  “It was the same for us,” Kitty spoke up, “until we moved here. But before, in Philadelphia, we worked as maids. Sometimes, we were able to take off Sundays, but usually only on special occasions.”

  Allie soaked this new information up. Taking a sip of her drink, she surreptitiously peeked around the roomy house. Was the home Nat Keenan built for Helen as nice?

  “Life is much better out here,” she found herself commenting.

  “In some ways,” Kitty replied. “And in others, it is harder. And what about yourself? You seem to be enjoying it in Wyoming.”

  “Yes.” Allie averted her gaze from Kitty’s, opting to stare at her glass.

  “Would you like to see my wedding dress?” Helen asked.

  Kitty giggled. “She is asking everyone. Her fiancé is probably the one person in town, other than you, Melissa, who hasn’t seen it yet.”

  “Oh, hush,” Helen good-naturedly told her sister. “I was speaking to our guest, not to you.”

  Allie laughed over the glee. “I would love to see your dress.”

  “Right this way.” Helen jumped to standing and seized Allie’s hand. “It’s in my room.”

  Down the hallway they went, and into the first room on the right. It was a colorful spot, with a vanity holding several perfume bottles and a pretty patchwork quilt hung on the wall for decoration.

  “That’s the one that I made in our quilting circle,” Helen explained, noting Allie’s interest in the piece.

  “It is lovely.”

  “And here is my dress.” With a grand flourish, she extracted a box from underneath her bed.

  “Be careful with it,” Kitty instructed, coming into the room.

  “Why would I be anything but?” Gently opening the box, Helen brought out the off-white gown and spread it across the bed. It was a beautiful dress, with lace and a bit of blue ribbon around the collar.

  “It’s magnificent,” Allie breathed, unable to stop staring at it. “When is the wedding?”

  Helen sighed. “This summer, perhaps? It may end up being last minute. Nat is still finishing up the house. I told him I don’t care about the little details. I’d live in a lean-to if it meant getting to be by his side.”

  Kitty and Allie both laughed.

  “Always the romanticist,” Kitty commented.

  Allie looked at the dress again, and it was as if Helen read her thoughts.

  “What is your dress going to look like?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve hardly thought about my wedding. We don’t have a date either.”

  “We can help you make one. Kitty and I made mine. It’s mostly her skills you see here. She is really very talented.”

  Allie’s jaw dropped I surprise. “Oh, no. I cannot ask you to do that.”

  Kitty’s soft touch on her arm made Allie look toward her. “It’s no trouble. We are companions already, in a way. We share many of the same experiences.”

  Allie’s heart warmed. “Yes, we do, don’t we?”

  “What do you see yourself in?” Helen asked.

  “I… I do not know,” Allie admitted. “I have never daydreamed about weddings.”

  “Surely it causes you some excitement?”

  Allie thought of Matt’s warm gaze and firm, caring touch. A fire grew in her core. She thought of the small house waiting for the two of them. She’d only been in it once, and only for a brief look around. It was cozy but bare, needing a creative touch.

  She could give that house what it needed. She could give Matt whatever it was he needed.

  Allie felt a smile pull at her lips. “Yes, it does excite me.”

  Helen grinned. “Weddings are such a thrill, aren’t they?”

  A knock sounded from the front of the house, making the three of them look at each other.

  “I will answer,” Kitty said. She left the room and strode down the hall, Allie and Helen close behind her.

  Allie recognized the smiling face at the door right away. It was Mrs. Keenan, Nat’s mother. Allie had met her briefly when she fetched the pickled radishes for Nicolette.

  “Come in, Mrs. Keenan,” Kitty greeted her, moving aside so the newcomer could enter.

  “Hello, girls. Are we having a party?”

  Helen laughed. “A very impromptu one.”

  “We were just showing Melissa Helen’s dress,” Kitty explained.

  “Ooh,” Mrs. Keenan cooed, looking to Allie. “It’s a nice once, is it not?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Allie agreed.

  “Have a seat,” Kitty ushered. “I will pour you a glass of iced tea.”

  “That’s precisely what I need.” Mrs. Keenan fanned herself as she took the nearest chair. “Did you see the smoke?”

  “We did,” Helen whispered dramatically.

  “It was at the Beelers’ farm, it turns out. All is well, though. Well, if you consider a ruined barn well.”

  “But no one was hurt?” Kitty asked, setting a glass of tea in front of Mrs. Keenan.

  “Thank you, dear. No, all people and animals are fine.”

  “Thank goodness.” Kitty took the seat next to Mrs. Keenan, and Helen resumed sitting as well, but Allie could not find it in herself to do the same. In Helen’s room, she’d been caught up in the thrill of talking about dresses and being with other women, but now, she found that an added person made her uneasy.

  Mrs. Keenan’s attention turned to Allie. “And it’s a nice surprise to see you here, Melissa. Are you getting out and visiting the town some?”

  Allie’s insides contracted. It was just as she’d feared. Mrs. Keenan was too interested in her.

  “Y—yes,” she stammered.

  “Speaking of weddings, when is yours? Will any of your family from back East be coming for it?” Mrs. Keenan raised her brows, her cheeks rosy and dimples deep. She was such a nice woman, and yet, she had no clue as to the agony she was putting Allie through.

  Allie worked her dry tongue around. “I am not sure when it is, and, um, no, my family will not be coming. They have all passed.”

  Mrs. Keenan frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. You’re from New York, correct?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And what did you do before you came here?”

&nb
sp; “I worked in a laundry house.” She darted her eyes to the grandfather clock against the wall. “Goodness, it’s getting late.”

  The other women looked at the time as well.

  “You must go?” Kitty asked, standing.

  “Yes. I’m very sorry. I need to be back at the farm to help with supper.”

  “Of course. Let’s visit together again soon, though.”

  “I would like that very much,” Allie answered, hoping her nerves wouldn’t prevent that from happening.

  Saying a hurried goodbye, Allie left the house and walked for the farm with her head down. Her heart still pounded from Mrs. Keenan’s interrogation. All of the questions had been of a friendly nature, but to Allie, it had felt as if she were on trial.

  I need to be more careful, she reminded herself.

  She’d gone to Kitty and Helen’s thinking the visit would be of an innocent nature, and instead, she’d found herself in the kind of predicament she feared: one where there was too much attention upon her.

  It went to show that she needed to remain careful. There could be no letting her guard down. Not for that day, and not for the rest of her life.

  9

  9. Matt

  Chapter Nine

  It had been years since Matt ached so much. Muscles he’d forgotten he had burned from the strain of the day.

  After returning from putting out the fire, he’d still had the plowing to get back to. Finishing the whole field that day wasn’t possible, but he’d gone for as long as he could.

  With the sun setting, he filled the washbasin behind his house with water and lowered his tender self into it. A warm bath would have been best for the aches, but the cool well water soothed his skin and washed away the fire’s marks.

  All in all, it served its purpose.

  Leaning back into the tub and hanging his hands over its sides, Matt watched the sunset explode across the sky. He’d never seen two of the same sunsets. Each night was different, this evening’s bringing a show of oranges and reds.

  As he washed the soot off his limbs, his mind floated back to the conversation with his father. He wished Melissa were ready to share more. Matt couldn’t deny that. While plowing, he’d worked himself up into a bit of steam over it, but now, having given some more thought to the matter, he realized he was still lucky.

  He’d waited a long time for a bride, and she was finally here. What was a few more weeks or months of waiting for her to share her innermost thoughts with him?

  Finding some satisfaction in that thought, Matt closed his eyes and let his mind go blank. He was like the sky on a clear day: nothing floating through him, nothing disturbing his peace. It was an easy state to get into after a day of pushing his body to the brink of exhaustion.

  “Matt, Nicolette would like—”

  His eyes snapped open at the same time Melissa stopped talking. She stood at the corner of the house, her mouth open but with no words coming out of it.

  Matt sat up straight in the washbasin, thinking he needed to cover himself.

  “I’m sorry.” Melissa turned away.

  Matt looked down, realized that only his chest was on display, and almost chuckled to himself. The situation was a mite embarrassing, but it was mostly funny.

  “That’s all right. I was just getting the smoke off of me.”

  “The smoke?” she asked, her back still facing him. “You were at the fire today?”

  “Uh-huh.” He reached for the towel hung over a tree limb next to the washbasin, stood, and wrapped it around himself.

  “So you helped put it out.”

  “Pa and I did.” He stood there in the water, towel wrapped around his waist, Melissa still facing away. The situation seemed extremely odd, yet neither one of them moved to correct it.

  “That was very brave of you,” she said in a hushed voice. Her face turned slightly to the side, just enough so that he could see a hint of her profile. And what a beautiful profile it was.

  Heat burned all along Matt’s skin.

  He cleared his throat, working to get his head straight. “I wouldn’t call doing what needs to be done brave.”

  “That’s interesting.” She smiled faintly. “I would say that’s the exact definition of bravery.”

  Matt also smiled. “All our neighbors would do the same for us, if it were our barn on fire.”

  “Yes,” she murmured thoughtfully. “They would, wouldn’t they?”

  A long moment passed.

  As if suddenly remembering herself, Melissa shook her head and straightened her shoulders. “Your mother sent me out here to tell you supper is ready early tonight.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “Yes.” Melissa cleared her throat. “I will see you inside, then.”

  “See you in there.”

  Melissa departed back around the corner of the house, and Matt finally stepped out of the washbasin. Toweling off, he dressed quickly and combed his wet hair with his fingers.

  It was funny that he’d been sitting in the water, thinking about how he wanted to see more of Melissa’s spirit, of her heart, and then she’d walked up and spoken that little piece about bravery.

  A whistle sliding from his lips, Matt strode across the yard, toward dinner and his lady.

  10

  10. Allie

  Chapter Ten

  May 1883

  The bell rang long and loud. It would have made Allie jump if she had not heard it nearly a thousand times before.

  The sea of mostly women and a few men shuffled forward. Some chatted. Some stared, dead eyed, ahead of themselves. Next to Allie, Juana repinned her hair as she walked.

  “Slow to go in, fast to get,” Juana commented in her unique blend of a Mexican and Brooklyn accents. She gave Allie a wink.

  Allie smirked and turned her eyes up to the sky. The sun was peeking into New York, bringing with it all the sounds and smells of early morning. Bread baking around the corner. The shouts of men hustling livestock down the block on Canal.

  She would not see the outdoors for hours, and she needed to soak in as much sun as she could while the chance was there.

  Each step into the garment factory was the same. Twenty steps to the desk to report in. Two flights of stairs to climb to the looms. Allie could have done it all in her sleep. Three years and counting, that’s how long she had been employed at the factory.

  The maid position she’d possessed before had been preferable, but Allie could not complain. Meager as they were, wages went into her pocket every Friday. The room she and Juana shared at the boarding house was decent enough—not always warm, no. Not quiet, no. And the street, certainly, was not the safest.

  But they made due, because that was their only option.

  Sometimes, Allie mourned the fact that she’d had to leave school for work at twelve, but she tried not to obsess over that. Her aunt, Lena, had worked hard to give Allie the bit of education she’d had, and she would always value that.

  Still, as Allie trudged through chilly mists in the early mornings and against fierce winds in the evenings, she wondered if she lived the life her parents had hoped for her.

  They’d been German immigrants, come to America five years before Allie was born. Though they’d both died before she was one, sometimes, she swore she dreamed of their faces at night.

  Reaching the second landing, Allie and Juana passed the propped-open door with the sign, “If you don’t come to work on Sunday, don’t come in on Monday” and made their way down the massive room to their looms.

  When Allie had first began at the factory, she’d been so overwhelmed by the cacophony that she could hardly think straight, much less run one loom. She’d learned quick, though, and now she operated ten at one time.

  The weavers spread out, each going to their own section. Just as Allie was marking her initials on the first cloth to signify the start of her shift, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Greta Maloney, a willowy blonde, perhaps ten years older than Allie, hurried th
rough the door.

  Greta coughed into her fist, the sound echoing in the room that had yet to be filled with the noise of work. Shoulders slumped, she rushed down the line, headed for her looms.