Mae Ann ignored the query and picked through a collection of seed packets, then perused showcases and shelves. Cade’s family matters were not any of her business, at least not yet.
“It was a tragic buggy accident, about five years ago, if I recall.”
Curiosity strained Mae Ann’s ears toward the warbling words, and her Christian training warned of gossip. Cade would tell her what she needed to know in good time. Perhaps if he cared for her one day, he would share his family’s history.
Reality brought her up short. Affection—another item that was not part of their business arrangement.
The barb twisted. She had hoped love might blossom with Henry after time, though she had prepared herself to settle for mere companionship. No matter, Colorado offered a fresh start away from the city that had stifled her for so long and taken her mother’s life.
The bell rang quietly, and Mae Ann glanced toward the door, expecting another woman. A man entered, wearing tall black boots and a blacker countenance. She shivered involuntarily.
“Worst winter we ever had.” Willa returned through the curtain, chattering from behind two stacked crates as she continued to the front. “The accident took both Colonel Parker and his wife, Madeline. And Betsy was never the same after that, poor girl. Up and ran off to Denver with a no-account.”
The man moved without sound to the window as if watching for someone.
“I hear he sends her money every now and again. Mr. Parker—Cade, that is—”
The crates dropped against the countertop, and Willa’s cheerful demeanor soured as she addressed the stranger. “Can I help you find something?”
The man gave Willa a dismissive shake of his head, then fixed his scrutiny on Mae Ann.
She stiffened.
With a slow hand and what appeared as more sneer than smile, he touched his hat brim. “Mrs. Parker.”
How did he know? Willa had said nothing revealing since his arrival, and he certainly wasn’t at yesterday’s brief ceremony at the church. The back of Mae Ann’s neck crawled, but manners pressed her into a curt nod. She joined Willa at the counter and continued her conversation in more hushed tones.
“You mentioned a Betsy?”
Willa watched the man like a snake watching its prey, never taking her eyes off him as she lowered her voice. “Truth be told, I’m surprised Mr. Parker didn’t go after his sister and that shyster. He does love Betsy. They were close as children.”
Mae Ann forced her concentration to this tidbit. A man who loved his sister could be as kind and thoughtful as she had judged Cade to be. She pinched the twenty-dollar bill between her fingers. “Is there a millinery in town, where I might find a reticule and other such things?”
“We are not quite that civilized yet.” Willa’s defiant glare bored into the stranger’s back. “But I do have several catalogues, and I keep a few items on hand just in case.”
She bent behind the counter and came up with a tray of lady’s items.
Blooming from the center like a morning glory was a blue silk bag that dashed all Mae Ann’s frugal planning.
How beautiful! And oh, how tempting.
Mae Ann picked up the reticule and fingered the embroidery, calculating what she’d already spent filling three crates with necessities. “Do you have anything less … not quite so fine?”
The bell rang a second time, and she turned as Cade halted in the doorway, eyeing the black-booted man in a less-than-friendly manner.
The stranger again tipped his hat in her direction. “Good day, ladies.” Then he stepped toward the door and locked glares with Cade. “Parker.”
“What do you want, MacGrath?”
This time the man’s sneer was heartfelt. “Other than the Reiker place?” He glanced at Mae Ann.
Cade’s hands fisted, but he stepped aside and watched the man walk across the street and into the saloon before closing the door.
Willa heaved a great sigh. “That fella makes me nervous every time he comes in here, which, thank the Lord, isn’t all that often.”
Concern marred Cade’s expression as he strode to Mae Ann and took hold of her arm. “Did he give you any trouble?”
“No.”
Cade’s stare cut through her, demanding the truth.
“He just seemed … he seemed so dark. Why do you ask?”
Releasing her arm, he glanced through the window. “That was Sean MacGrath.” Cade’s eyes met hers again. “Remember? I told you he tried to buy Reiker’s—your place—but Henry wouldn’t sell.”
Willa coughed and fluttered at what she’d just heard, failing miserably at pretending to not have figured everything out. “Mr. Parker. I must say, congratulations are in order. What a lovely bride you have. Wherever did you two meet?”
Mae Ann was certain Willa already knew and was simply fishing to feed the local gossip mill. She returned the reticule to the tray. “Perhaps next time. When you have something a little less costly.”
Cade riffled through the crates, his frown deepening. “No tea?”
Surprised by his request, she scoured the tightly packed shelves behind the counter. Last night’s bitter brew was certainly an odd choice for a man, but it might be improved if served with her favorite cake. “Have you any Baker’s Chocolate?”
Willa whisked away down the length of wall.
Mae Ann turned to Cade. “What kind of tea do you like?”
He gave her a blank look. “Not for me, for you.”
“I prefer coffee.” The words fell from her lips before she could form a kinder remark.
One side of his mouth ticked.
Willa returned with a box of Grand Union tea and another of Baker’s, and handed them both to Mae Ann for inspection. She set the tea aside and dropped the cocoa in the crate. “That should do for today.” Rolling the pocketed bill between her fingers, she prayed she’d not overspent, especially with Cade standing there watching. “Can you please tally everything for me?”
Willa wrote out a ticket and offered it to Cade. Mae Ann snatched it before it touched his fingers, drawing a gasp from Willa and raised brows from her husband. She didn’t care. She wanted to know the bill so she could put back the least-needed items if necessary. Like the chocolate.
To her great relief, she had a bit more than enough. Allowing her shoulders to relax, she unrolled the twenty-dollar note and gave it to Willa. Cade picked up the blue reticule, dwarfing it against his large hand. He turned it over, pulled at its cord, and dropped it in the crate with the Baker’s.
“I didn’t purchase that. I was just looking.” Mae Ann reached for it, but Cade pulled the crate away and turned for the door.
“I did.”
Struck dumb, she stared after him through the window as he loaded the box in his wagon.
Willa’s thin face blushed with a smile as she counted out Mae Ann’s change, then leaned across the counter with a whisper. “Here you are, dear. You’ve got yourself a fine man there. Surely you know it.” She squeezed Mae Ann’s hand, then straightened to address Cade when he returned for the other crates.
Arranging the Arbuckle’s packages right under his nose, Willa added, “Next time you’re in town, you’ll have to check out my new jewelry collection, Mr. Parker. Brooches, tie tacks. Even wedding rings.”
Mae Ann stared at the floor, willing it to open and swallow her on the spot.
Cade seemed not to have noticed the woman’s unveiled insinuation and hefted a crate under each arm. “Give my regards to Fred.”
Mae Ann opened the door for him and glanced back to find Willa beaming from behind the counter, having set all things right in the world.
“Cade,” a man hailed from across the street. The sun glinted off a star on his vest as he approached the wagon.
Cade loaded the crates and locked the back board in place, then shook the man’s hand and turned her way. “Mae Ann, this is Sheriff Wilson. Sheriff, my wife, Mae Ann.”
The introduction flowed smoothly with no blunder or hes
itation, and Mae Ann could almost believe Cade sounded, well, not resentful of her. At least he hadn’t introduced her as his business partner.
“Sheriff.” She nodded briefly.
He touched his hat brim. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
If surprised at Cade’s sudden married state, he hid it well. Facing away from her, he lowered his voice, naively mumbling his news in the presence of a woman with perfect hearing.
“Neither hide nor hair of the bank robbers that killed Reiker yesterday, and their lookout’s not talking. I’ve sent a couple men out following sign. We’ll find ’em.”
Cade reset his hat. “I know you will.”
Mae Ann climbed to the seat, her breakfast turning in her stomach. She reached for her brooch that wasn’t there, irritated by her reflexive habit and grieved anew by the sheriff’s comment. Nothing was as it had been the day before, nor would it ever be again.
Cade drove for the ranch with tight hands and a tighter jaw, as tense as he’d been on the way in. No doubt the sheriff’s remarks played into his morose withdrawal, as well as his encounter with Mr. MacGrath, whose mere presence had thrown Cade into a scowling storm.
Resolve steeled her spine despite the hard bench and jostling ride. Mr. MacGrath might be in the habit of intimidating people to get what he wanted, but it hadn’t worked with Henry, and it wouldn’t work with her. The farm was not for sale.
Forcing her thoughts away from the man’s overbearing demeanor, she considered the clear spring sky that canopied the greening grassland. In the last dozen years, she’d seen so little of the earth’s seasonal renewal that she gathered each spot of color and each birdsong and tucked them next to her childhood memories of happier times before her father left. Before the dank city and rooming house. Before her mother let loose the cords that bound her to her earthly suffering.
She and Cade had at least one thing in common.
A deep sigh escaped and drew his notice, reminding her of what he’d done. “Thank you for the reticule.”
His posture eased a bit. His mouth ticked and he slid her a glance. “What makes you think I bought it for you?”
She stared straight ahead, humiliation flaring through her breast. Of course he hadn’t bought it for her. How prideful she was. He’d known her one day. Surely there were other women in the area who might have caught his eye—yet he’d married her. Oh, Lord, how would she ever make a pleasant home for a man who might love another?
Then again, perhaps he’d bought it for his sister. The tension in her neck eased somewhat. Surely he’d bought it for Betsy.
He huffed, and ire displaced her embarrassment. Dare he mock her? Perhaps she would forget to add sugar to the chocolate cake she’d planned for supper.
And then he looked right at her with a genuine smile. “You need it, don’t you?”
She turned from his warm gaze, completely undone by his change of temper. She was unaccustomed to one who bantered or teased. Up to this point, life had not presented opportunity for playful speech. She studied the point between the horse’s ear tips and deliberately softened her voice. “As I said, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” With that, he snapped the reins and the gray quickened its pace.
She folded her hands in her lap and prayed that someday she would indeed be welcome.
The parson’s blessing threaded through her heart, inching further with each clop of the horse’s hooves. Be gracious. What exactly did that mean? Pleasant? Kind? Conversational? She drew a deep breath. “How many cows do you have?”
Her question turned his head again, but this time no humor lit his features. Had she misspoken? Was it a secret?
He looked away, silently taking in the open land to his left until she decided he was ignoring her again. So much for pleasantries.
“Two hundred pairs, give or take.” He huffed again. “Lately, there’s been more taking.”
“Who would take a pair of cows?”
He gave what sounded like a snort, completely mirthless. “A cow-calf pair. And who’s stealing them is what I’d like to know.”
Another sudden shift in his temper. Maintaining a gracious demeanor might be harder than she imagined if his mood continued to change with every wind.
A dark cluster of buildings sprouted near the mountain’s base, and Mae Ann soon recognized the two-story log house. Coming upon the ranch in clear daylight gave her pause, so majestic was its simplicity. The house fronted a grove of white-barked trees with small fluttering leaves, and across the yard, a log barn—eaglelike with wings spread on each side and a peaked roof.
Corrals skirted one end, and beyond them squatted a small cabin with a porch across its length. That must be Deacon’s. The mottled dog that had greeted them last night bounded toward the wagon, scattering chickens in its dash.
Cade stopped in front of the main house and set the brake. Mae Ann started to climb down.
“I’m unloading the stores and then heading on to the farm.” His words pushed her against the seat, laden with shame. How could she have forgotten their day’s mission again? A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Henry was still with them.
“You don’t have to go along if you don’t want to.” He waited, watching her with no hint of judgment or scorn, then jumped down and went to the back of the wagon.
Deacon came from the barn and paused to scrub the dog’s ears before hefting a crate. “Afternoon, ma’am. Nice day, ain’t it?”
A nice day for what? Forgetting that the man who had defended her honor lay dead in a box behind her? She shuddered and crossed her arms, chilled by the thought.
Deacon followed Cade into the house, leaving her alone with Henry. She shuddered again, and her mother’s teaching quickened in her spirit. It was not really Henry in the wagon bed, but his remains, as if he had shed an old suit of clothes for a new one. The illustration had once comforted Mae Ann in the wake of a boarder’s death, and when her mother died, she’d wrapped it tight around her, swaddling her heart against the pain.
The sun warmed her back, and the chill melted as she drew upon Henry’s letters. They were few, but she had committed them to memory and illustrated each one with fanciful dreams of the new life that awaited her. He’d sounded so hopeful to “make a go of it” and repeatedly expressed his delight that she agreed to join him on his “meager” farm. The word had cost her several hours of concern, but she eventually convinced herself he was simply being modest.
Cade returned to the wagon and gave her a glance as he picked up the reins. She released a long breath and quieted her thoughts for what lay ahead, for she was about to see what would have been her home had things gone as planned.
Deacon approached with two shovels and laid them in the wagon bed. “I’ll meet you there.”
Cade nodded and tugged his hat down, then turned out of the yard and back to the road.
Mae Ann had never felt more useless in her life.
CHAPTER 7
No surprise that Mae Ann stayed in the wagon. She was as determined a woman as Cade had ever met. But his taking that piece of fluff at the mercantile did surprise him. When he saw her holding it like a cherished treasure, the look on her face made him forget his good sense. And finding MacGrath in the same room with her nearly made him forget his upbringing.
The man went after what he wanted like a cougar after a fawn. He’d bought out every rancher who bordered his place, other than Reiker and Cade, and Cade suspected he was behind the rustling. He’d not heard about any of MacGrath’s cattle gone missing. What better way to drive people off than by stealing their stock?
However, he’d have an easier time proving the sun rose in the west. Hard to catch a thief other than red-handed, and he didn’t have time to lay wait on someone sneaking into his herd at night. Now he had even less time with a woman to look after, especially who just happened to have ties to what MacGrath wanted.
He cut her a look, a bit prideful of how she drank in the country as if it were wor
th it. Truth was, he didn’t know what she’d seen or not seen, only that she was from St. Louis. They hadn’t talked much other than her asking about his cattle and him asking where to bury Henry.
It all came back to Henry.
Cade hadn’t seen the Reiker place up close, just the outline of buildings from a distance. His ranch shared a stretch of boundary fence on the farm’s south side, but the lay of the land swept down to a small valley with sweetgrass and a snowmelt lake in the summer.
Henry Reiker hadn’t known what he had, but every other rancher around here did, especially MacGrath, whose acreage bordered Reiker on the north. Cade’s pulse kicked up. The man knew about Reiker’s mail-order bride, too. Everyone did. And he’d no doubt heard about the shooting and quick nuptials last evening. McGrath had eyes and ears everywhere, the cur. That had to be why he was at the mercantile this morning, hoping to get a look at Mae Ann.
Cade’s blood heated and he strangled the reins.
Mae Ann’s gasp broke into his brooding, and she covered her mouth with one hand as they drove into the yard. He couldn’t blame her. It was worse than he’d expected.
A busted-up porch sloped off the front of a small, narrow-windowed house, and a half dozen chickens ran out the open front door. A tottering shed must have served as a barn, for a cow bawled from inside, begging to be relieved.
By the time he stopped in front of the rickety corrals, Mae Ann had both hands over her mouth. He wanted to pull her into his arms. Comfort her. But it was daylight, and Deacon had them in his sights.
“I’ll scout a place for the—”
She cut him to the quick with the same look she’d had at Ward’s when the barber asked her to hold the door.
He laid a hand on her shoulder and gentled his voice. “Wait here. Or get out and look around if you want.” As if she needed his permission. She’d do what she well pleased. He jumped down and grabbed his work gloves and the shovels.
Deacon ground-tied his horse and they scouted a small rise behind the barn. Cade jammed the shovel blade in the earth and turned to survey the place. Mae Ann was already walking the yard, her arms clenched across her waist as if she was holding something inside. He’d known her less than twenty-four hours, but he couldn’t imagine her living out here in this desolate spot.
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