Brides of Kansas

by Bateman, Tracey V. ;

  He returned her frank stare and cleared his throat. “It concerns the advertisement I placed outside the general store.”

  Clapping a hand to her cheek, Cassidy opened her mouth wide in horror. This was the wife hunter? Why would a man as handsome as he need to advertise for a wife?

  His eyes narrowed as he observed her reaction. “Is there a problem, Mrs. Sinclair? You did inquire about the ad, correct?”

  “Miss Sinclair,” she corrected. “You posted it?”

  “We didn’t exactly get off to a good start, did we?” He gave Emily a sly wink, causing her to giggle again.

  What power did this man have over her niece?

  “Em, go wait inside the wagon, please,” she said, irritation edging her voice.

  “Oh Aunt Cass, I always miss the fun,” Emily complained. Nevertheless, she stalked off to do as she’d been told.

  Irrational anger boiled within Cassidy. “I should say we did not get off to a good start. Would you please explain to me what you were doing cooking bacon at my fire?”

  He opened his mouth, but Cassidy gave him no chance to speak. Humiliation loosened her tongue, and a torrent of words spewed from her lips. “Do you think just because I answered your ad you have a right to come right in and take over? Are you planning to move right into the wagon, too?”

  She ignored his blink of surprise and continued, the words spilling from her lips like a rain shower. “If you think I’m the kind of woman who’d—”

  He held up his hand. “Miss Sinclair, please let me explain myself.”

  Cassidy’s racing heart settled a little at his soothing voice. “Fine,” she said. “Start by explaining where the bacon—which you burnt—came from, and why you were cooking it in the first place.”

  He lifted a brow and twisted his lips into a smirk. “Well, I hated to invite myself to dinner without bringing the meat. Didn’t have time to snag a deer. As to whether or not I move into the wagon,” he said with a drawl, observing her with lazy eyes, “now that remains to be seen.”

  She felt herself blush all the way to her hairline. “Your manners are insufferable, as I observed with the boldness of your stare this morning.” She stamped her foot. “And stop looking at me that way!”

  “I apologize if my admiration offends you, Miss Sinclair. But if you’ll pardon me for saying so—and I wouldn’t have brought it up if you hadn’t first—I was simply returning a stare from you.”

  A gasp escaped her mouth. “Sir, you may turn around and go back the way you came. Considering your boorish manners, it’s no wonder you have to advertise for a wife.”

  “Aunt Cass!” cried Emily from the wagon.

  An inkling of regret passed over Cassidy’s heart, and she wished she could snatch the words back. After all, if he took her at her word and walked away, where would she and Emily go?

  Dell’s square jaw tightened, and his eyes glittered like sapphires. “You think I’m looking for a wife?”

  “Well, aren’t you?” Cassidy swallowed hard as embarrassment flooded her. “The advertisement indicated marriage.”

  He observed her coolly. “I represent Mr. Wendell St. John III. Unfortunately, my employer’s business keeps him too busy to attend to such things as meeting suitable women. So he sent me instead. You seem to be the only candidate.”

  A strange sense of disappointment filled Cassidy. “You don’t want to get married, then, Mr….?”

  “Michaels. Dell Michaels. Let’s just say I want to find my own wife.” With a businesslike air, he cleared his throat and produced a folded slip of paper from his shirt pocket. “This is a contract of sorts, stating that you agree to marry Mr. St. John, or—”

  “Now wait just a minute—”

  He held up a silencing hand. “Mr. St. John will outfit the rest of your journey,” he said with a cursory glance over the worn-out wagon, “beginning with a new wagon. He will also provide material for a suitable trousseau. And I’m sure we can find something for your niece as well.”

  Cassidy glanced at her shabby dress and worn-out shoes and felt ashamed. “Mr. Michaels, please. I haven’t said I’d go.”

  “Of course not. No decent woman would agree to such a marriage without further details, which I will provide if you’ll stop interrupting.”

  Cassidy bristled but held her tongue.

  “The contract in question is simply this: Once you arrive at the ranch—”

  “Mr. St. John is a rancher?” She’d only known farmers.

  “Yes.” He gave her a stern glance, silencing her. “Once you arrive at the ranch, if you find that Mr. St. John doesn’t meet your expectations, you may work as his housekeeper. Or if you prefer, you’ll be provided with transportation to wherever you choose to go.” He paused. “Well? What do you say?”

  “Oh, may I speak now?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from her lips.

  With a lighthearted chuckle, he handed her the contract. “You may.”

  “Where is this ranch, anyway?”

  “Southwest of here.”

  “It’s in Kansas, then?”

  Dell nodded.

  “I’ll have to think about this—and pray about it.” She scanned the contract. It seemed to be in order. Still, she had to be sure God was behind this. Enough miseries occurred in the world when people jumped into things just because an idea sounded good.

  His eyes held a glint of admiration. “The wagon train will probably be pulling out tomorrow or the next day. With all the Indian trouble recently, I’d like to go with them as far as we can. If you can give me your answer early in the morning, we can sign the contract and pick up supplies. I’ll have to clear it with the wagon master, but I don’t think there’ll be a problem.”

  “Fine. I will give you an answer then, Mr. Michaels.”

  “Well…” He glanced at the charred skillet. “Sorry about the…um, bacon. There’s more in a crate over there. Enjoy it with my compliments.” He lifted a large hand of farewell toward Emily, who peeked out of the opening in the wagon canvas.

  Cassidy drew a breath as his gaze shifted to hers. “Until tomorrow, Miss Sinclair.” He placed his hat atop his head and mounted his roan mare. With a final glance toward Cassidy, he rode away.

  Cassidy thrashed about on the straw mattress, trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. Finally, she sat up and shrugged into her dressing gown. Yanking back the canvas flap, she stepped down from the wagon. A cool gust of wind blew across her clammy body, drawing a sigh from her lips. Her mind conjured up the face of Dell Michaels. If only he were the one seeking a wife instead of Mr. St. John. But she wasn’t that lucky. Oh, she’d had the dreams of a handsome beau sweeping her off her feet, just like all young girls. But beautiful girls got the handsome beaus, and young women like Cassidy sat like wildflowers among roses, never invited to dances or socials.

  Perhaps if she had traveled west sooner, she might have had a better chance at marriage. She had heard women were a rarity in the West—especially single women. Well, she was definitely single. For now anyway.

  Lord, is this Your plan for Emily and me? Mr. St. John is a stranger to us, but You’ve known him since You formed him in his mother’s womb. Prepare us for each other, Lord. And maybe… No, it was too silly to even ask.

  Cassidy lifted her chin and looked into the night sky. The moon shone down on the camp, and a smattering of stars dotted a vast expanse, making Cassidy feel very small in the scheme of things. She remained outside until long after the others had doused their fires and retired to their own wagons. A sense of longing sent an ache across her heart as she heard the hoot of an owl calling to its mate. Everything in nature had a place to belong. Except her.

  Still filled with a sense of melancholy, she returned to the wagon and lay down next to Emily. With a yawn, she closed her eyes. And maybe, Lord, maybe I can even fall in love. She drifted to sleep with images of a dark-haired man with brilliant blue eyes invading her dreams.

  Chapter 2

  Dell scanned th
e wagons camped outside of town until he spied Cassidy standing over her cooking fire. She brushed a strand of hair, the color of ground ginger, from her face, then dabbed at her forehead with the edge of her apron. His heart stirred. You’re a lucky man, Wendell St. John.

  One thing he knew already: Cassidy Sinclair was quite a woman. Strong and solidly built, she stood a head taller than most of the women he knew. A prairie wife had to be tough and work hard. If a man was fortunate, he found a wife who stirred his blood as well…one like Cassidy.

  As he approached her wagon, the aroma of smoked bacon wafting his way pulled him from his reverie.

  “Good morning, Mr. Michaels.” Emily greeted him with a wide grin as he dismounted.

  “Good morning.” He gently tugged a red braid, then his gaze riveted to Cassidy. “Morning, Miss Sinclair.”

  “Mr. Michaels.” She inclined her head. “Are you hungry? Emily and I were just about to eat breakfast.”

  The rumble in the pit of his stomach served as a reminder that he had left his hotel room without food. “As a matter of fact, I’m starving.” He strode to the fire and peeked into the skillet. Cassidy gave him a good-humored smile but said nothing.

  “Ah, so this is how you fry bacon,” he said, smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand.

  Emily giggled. “What do you have there, Mr. Michaels?” she asked, indicating a small basket he held.

  “Emily, don’t be rude,” Cassidy admonished.

  The little girl scowled. “Sorry,” she muttered, but she kept her wide, curious eyes on the basket.

  Dell struggled to suppress a grin. “Jasper, over at the general store, asked me to give these to you,” he said, extending the basket toward Cassidy. “He said you wouldn’t take them yesterday.”

  “Eggs! Aunt Cass, can we please have them now?”

  A fleeting look of uncertainty passed over Cassidy’s face, then she nodded, reaching for the basket.

  “Will you join us, Mr. Michaels?”

  “Please, call me Dell.”

  Cassidy tilted her head to one side. Lifting the crispy bacon from the skillet, she slid it onto a platter. “Dell, then. Do you want some breakfast?”

  He admired the woman’s disposition. As he’d discovered, she wasn’t one to hold back. “I don’t want to put you two ladies out.” He sent Emily a sly wink. “Emily here is eyeing those eggs like a hungry fox.”

  “I’ll share.” Emily tried to give him a wink of her own, but her attempt produced a tight blink instead.

  He chuckled. “There you have it. If she’s sharing, I’m staying.”

  “Good. You’d better start calling me Cassidy if you’re going to eat at our breakfast table.” She glanced at the quilt spread over the grass. “Well, our breakfast, anyway.” Turning back to the skillet, she cracked open the eggs one by one.

  Dell’s heart lurched. She was adaptable. That was for sure. He’d only known this woman for a day, but he was finding more and more to admire.

  “Cassidy is an unusual name,” he said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard it before.”

  “It was my mother’s maiden name.”

  “Lovely,” he murmured, keeping his voice low and even. His heart warmed as a modest blush rose to her cheeks.

  Emily danced circles around the small campsite, arms stretched wide. “I haven’t eaten eggs in years. I can’t wait!”

  “Think she’s exaggerating just a little?” Cassidy glanced in his direction with a wry smile at her niece’s antics.

  Dell threw back his head and laughed.

  Cassidy released a small, wistful sigh as she removed the eggs from the skillet and placed them on a platter. “It’s amazing to me, now, what we took for granted living on my brother’s farm. We had chickens and cows—all the eggs we could eat and milk we could drink.”

  “We have plenty of chickens and cows at the ranch,” Dell said. “Little Emily here can have as many eggs as she can eat.”

  Cassidy’s eyebrows lifted. “You live on Mr. St. John’s ranch, too?”

  Dell blinked, then stared. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I have my own quarters.”

  “Are there many hands living there?”

  “Only the foreman—me—because I don’t have a family. All the other hands live on nearby farms.”

  “Oh.”

  Emily plopped herself onto the ground and crossed her legs. Her eyes were wide with anticipation as Cassidy handed her a tin plate.

  Dell followed her example and sat on the earthen floor beside her. With an indulgent smile playing at the corners of her lips, Cassidy handed him a plate as well.

  “Now, Emily,” he said, glancing sideways at the little girl, “I’ll show you the best way to eat one of these.”

  He moved his fork toward the perfectly round yellow center. “Mr. Michaels, wait!” Emily shouted. With a start, Dell dropped his fork. “What’s wrong?”

  “We haven’t thanked the Lord yet.”

  He glanced up at Cassidy. Red-faced, she covered her mouth but couldn’t conceal her amusement. Rather than embarrassing him, the action pleased Dell beyond words.

  “Well,” he said, in what he hoped was a dignified tone, “let’s hurry and thank the Almighty, then, ‘cause I surely am grateful for this breakfast.”

  They bowed their heads, and Cassidy said the blessing. Dell studied their reverent faces, and for a fleeting moment, a longing rose within him. Though whether the longing stemmed from a need for faith in his numbed heart or for the closeness of family, he wasn’t sure.

  “Amen,” Cassidy murmured. When she looked up, her gaze found his and locked.

  “Amen,” Emily echoed and grabbed her fork. “I’m ready now.”

  Dell tried to respond, but lost in Cassidy’s eyes, he found it impossible. His throat constricted, and all he could do was stare.

  Emily tugged at his shirtsleeve. “Mr. Michaels,” she said, “it’s okay for you to show me the best way to eat an egg now. Aunt Cass is done praying.”

  Cassidy shifted her gaze to Emily. The spell was broken.

  “Yes. What is the best way?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat and turned his attention to the little girl. “Well, you take your fork in one hand and your biscuit in the other.” He grinned at his captive audience. “Stick the fork in the yolk and real quicklike sop it up with the biscuit.”

  Emily followed his example. “Mmm, it is good this way.”

  Cassidy handed her a linen napkin. “Wipe your chin, honey.”

  They laughed and chatted over breakfast. When the meal was over, Dell grabbed his dirty plate and a towel and followed Cassidy to the washtub.

  “Why, Mr. Michaels—”

  “Dell,” he insisted.

  “Whatever you say, Dell.” She grabbed the towel from his hands. “No man is going to wash dishes in my kitchen.”

  “May I sit and talk to you while you work, then?”

  She hesitated a moment, and he held his breath, afraid she might refuse.

  “I suppose that’ll be all right.”

  He sat on a crate and watched her hands move deftly from one dish to another. How long had it been since he’d watched a woman at work? Impatiently, he pushed back the painful memories trying to invade his mind. Now wasn’t the time to think about the past.

  Cassidy gave him a curious look. “Is something the matter?”

  “No.” His voice was sharper than he intended, and he softened it before his next words. “But I have quite a bit to do today—depending upon your decision, of course. Are you coming with me?” He held his breath, awaiting her answer.

  Cassidy’s jade green eyes stared frankly behind bristly lashes. “Emily and I are alone now, and if Mr. St. John is offering us a home, I don’t see how I can refuse.”

  Relief washed over him. “Fine. I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

  “How long will it take to reach the ranch?” Cassidy asked.

  She sounded weary, and Dell’s gaze traveled over
her face. Dark shadows smudged the spaces below her eyes. The trail was hard for anyone, but he couldn’t imagine what it had been like for a woman alone with a child to care for. Especially with her pitifully inadequate provisions. All that was over now. He would make sure she never did without again.

  “We’ll stay with the wagon train for about two weeks. Then we’ll turn off and travel another two days until we reach the ranch.”

  A frown darkened her face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Two days with no chaperone? What will the neighbors think of me?” Dell started to laugh but stopped, realizing by her wide-eyed stare that she was serious.

  “Well,” he said, swiping a hand over his chin, “Emily can be our chaperone.” He laughed aloud.

  Her eyes narrowed, and she shook a wet spatula at him, flinging droplets of water onto his shirt. “If you think I’m going to travel two days alone with a man who is not my husband, you have another thing coming, Mr. Michaels.”

  “Please, please.” He held up his hands and took a step back. “I was only kidding. We’ll figure something out.”

  “Oh,” she said, appearing slightly mollified. “See that you do ‘figure something out,’ or the deal is off.”

  “I promise.”

  Silence filled the air between them as she resumed her chore.

  Finally, Dell shifted and stood. “Can you make a list of the supplies you’ll be needing for say, oh, a month to be on the safe side, just in case there are delays?”

  “All right,” Cassidy said with a nod.

  “That includes new shoes.” His gaze slid over the black muslin. “And a new dress or two if you deem it necessary. In the meantime I’ll go and talk to the wagon master—uh, what’s his name?”

  A small smile lifted the corners of her lips, captivating him with its soft fullness.

  “Lewis Cross. He’ll be at the front of the train. His wife and daughter are traveling with us.”

  He lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. “Can you have a list ready in an hour?”