The Brides of Chance Collection

by Kelly Eileen Hake,Cathy Marie Hake,Tracey V. Bateman

  Lord, in a funny way I’m sorta like Legs—at first glance, it seems like I was meant to be a wife and mother, but the fact is I weren’t made for it. Instead, You’ve given me a purpose and work I cain accomplish. I know I come up short, but in Yore arms I cain reach out to holp others. I thank You for that, Jesus. Let me not lose sight of the blessings You’ve given me.

  She finished the dishes with a light heart, humming under her breath. Then she went inside to put them away.

  “Is there anything I should be on the lookout for as we ride today, Miz Willow?” Sometimes the widow knew odd spots where valuable yarbs grew. Hattie hadn’t managed to memorize them all just yet, but she was working on it.

  “Not today, Hattie. I figgur you’ll have yore hands full enough. Now I’ve packed some salted meat, biscuits, and apples in that thar saddlebag for dinner, though I’ve a notion you might be invited somewhere. Not good to rely on such things, though, so thar’s plenty for all three of you.” Miz Willow kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be seein’ you afore supper, I reckon.”

  “Depends. We’re going to visit Rooster, and I’ll have a look-in on Abigail Rucker, since her husband’s on a trip to Hawk’s Fall this week.” Hattie paused. “But we pass the Cleary place, so if they git a-holt of us, it’ll take forever.”

  “I suppose. Jist do yore best to be gone in a trice.” Miz Willow grimaced. “Iff ’n that don’t warsh, jist don’ let Bethilda corner ’em.”

  “I cain’t make any promises.”

  Logan finished mucking out the last stall, then walked over to find Bryce hunched over, rubbing Dr. J. H. McLean’s Volcanic Liniment on Blossom’s ailing leg.

  “How’s she comin’ along this morning?”

  “Hard to say.” Bryce frowned in concentration. “She doesn’t shy away when I touch her, but she still stays off it.”

  “Any chance of improvement?” Logan pressed.

  “A little. She’ll probably be able to use the leg a bit, but she’ll favor it a good long while. If it’s a bone split, she won’t ever carry weight again.” Bryce stood up and rubbed his hands on a rag. “Fact is, she’s old, Logan. Too old to work.”

  “You’ve done what you can. We’ll see to it that Hattie and Miz Willow are provided for.” Logan lifted a saddle off the stand. “C’mon and help me saddle the horses— Hattie’s taken a liking to Legs, so we’ll load up the other one.”

  “She can ride Blaze again.”

  Something about Bryce’s too-casual air made Logan turn around. “You’ll have need of Blaze today,” Logan stated matter-of-factly.

  “I was thinking…” Bryce edged back toward Blossom’s stall, and Logan knew what was coming.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” He pinned his brother with his best glare. “No way you’re hiding out in this barn and leaving me to meet everybody on my own.”

  “If there’s a need, it’ll be accepted.” Bryce looked at something beyond Logan’s shoulder rather than meet his brother’s gaze.

  “There’s not. Yesterday you were needed. Today Blossom won’t need liniment again until this evening. You’re coming.” He punctuated the order by hefting Bryce’s saddle at him. “No brother of mine’s gonna turn tail over meeting a few gals. Get going.”

  “Fine.” Bryce straightened his shoulders. “I’ll go. But I ain’t talking to a one of ’em.”

  “Deal.” From what Logan had seen, he wouldn’t have to. Folks ’round Salt Lick Holler were anything but shy. They saddled all the animals and were finishing loading the packhorse when Hattie showed up.

  “Are y’all ready?”

  “You bet. We’ve loaded up everything for Abner, Rooster, Goody, and Nessie.” Logan gestured to the packhorse.

  “Blossom’s leg is covered with some liniment, so we saddled up Legs for you.” Bryce led the horse around. Hattie rested her medicine satchel on the pommel and swung up.

  “Thankee.” She stroked Legs’s mane and crooned at him for a minute. “We get along just fine.”

  Logan rode alongside her while Bryce led the packhorse and brought up the rear. They went the opposite direction from the path they’d taken yesterday. The road wound uphill. The higher they climbed, the more trees crowded along the path, so full of birds it seemed as though the plants themselves sang to them.

  “We’ll be passin’ the Cleary place. I reckon it’s jist early enough not to bother them.” Hattie’s tone took on an unfamiliar flat note. “We’ll probably be seein’ ’em on the way back.”

  Logan turned around to make sure Bryce had heard the message; Bryce nodded. They saw a ramshackle old cabin, the wood bleached white by sun and rain, sitting in a clearing peeking through the trees. He figured that must be the Cleary place and noticed how Hattie picked up the pace as they passed it.

  They reached the stream he remembered crossing the afternoon before and figured it must wind through the hills. Since there was no bridge, Hattie led them to a shallow embankment, and they crossed through the water. Legs carried Hattie across, and Logan and Bryce made it through with damp boots as they coaxed the packhorse across.

  “It’s jist past this turn,” Hattie told them as they let the horses have a drink. “Don’t quite know how to say this…”

  “It’s all right.” Bryce grimaced. “Logan already told me how it is.”

  Logan watched Hattie’s cheeks turn bright pink. It must be something different.

  “What is it, Hattie?” Something about Lovejoy’s dad tickled the back of his mind.

  “I don’t know if Lovejoy told you.” She hesitated, and her voice dropped. “Mr. Linden owns a still.”

  “Yeah.” Bryce nodded. “I remember Lovejoy sayin’ her pa made moonshine.”

  “Well, Rooster says he takes pride in his work, so he keeps a close eye on the…” She searched for words. “The quality of his product.”

  “Samples his own wares, eh?” Logan said.

  Hattie nodded sadly. “Folks call him Rooster. Used to be he’d jist git jolly, but of late, he’s taken a different turn.” She jutted her chin toward the curve in the road. “I’m not shore what mood he’ll be in.”

  Logan could feel his own frown. What Hattie was trying so hard to state delicately was that the man had become a mean drunk, and she’d been around him enough to know it wasn’t an occasional occurrence.

  “Is ‘Rooster’ his real name, or do folks just call him that because he gets roostered?” Bryce’s voice made him pay attention again.

  “You know, we’ve all called him Rooster for so long I cain’t remember iff ’n he has a proper name.” Hattie shrugged. “Since Nessie’s fella up and ran off, she’s done her best to take care of her pa. Goody pitches in now and then, too.”

  Nessie and Goody were, if Logan remembered right, short for Gentleness and Goodness. Ma Linden had named her girls for the fruit of the Spirit in an effort to raise them well in spite of her husband’s dubious occupation. Lovejoy was firstborn, Peace had died young, and Kindness was stillborn. Temperance was Micah MacPherson’s Tempy, and these were the other two of the sisters. Lovejoy must not have known about Nessie’s husband running off, or she would have mentioned it. She wasn’t the type of woman who’d leave one of her sisters alone to fend for herself with an angry drunk for a father.

  “I see.” Logan met Hattie’s gaze to let her know he fully understood the problem.

  “Sorry to hear that.” Bryce shook his head. “Glad to know in advance, though.”

  Hattie just nodded and got back in the saddle. Logan felt the blood pumping in his veins, and his eyes narrowed. Whatever was to come, he’d be ready for it.

  I wonder what we’ll find once we round the corner.

  “Hattie, I’ll take the lead now.”

  Hattie pretended not to hear Logan. Instead, she nudged Legs to go a bit faster so the brothers were a few paces behind.

  “Hello!” she called loudly so Rooster wouldn’t think they’d snuck up on him. “Nessie, Rooster! It’s Hattie Thales, and I brung you some visit
ors!” Best to warn him so he didn’t think he had a pair of trespassers on his land. When Rooster was soused, it wasn’t completely out of the question that he’d answer company with a shotgun— especially if they were strangers.

  Logan pulled up beside her and shot her a dark glower before he scanned the area. “Don’t try that again.”

  She smiled at him innocently. If he didn’t like her precautions, well, he’d have to live with them.

  Nessie came out of the house to greet them. Bryce busied himself tying the reins to a tree while she spoke.

  “Howdy, Hattie. Mister. Mister.” She cast a nervous glance toward the barn. “What cain I do for you folks?”

  “Mornin’, Nessie.” Hattie patted the girl’s arm to reassure her. “These are Logan and Bryce Chance, Lovejoy’s kin. We come to visit you and yore pa, iff ’n he’s feelin’ up to it.”

  “I reckon it’s a good day for a visit.” Nessie gave a slow nod. “Why don’t you wait in the shade whilest I fetch ’im from the barn.”

  “Shore thing.”

  They waited as Nessie hurried to the barn. When she opened the door, a string of curses fouled the air before she swung it shut again.

  “If she says it’s a good day for a visit, then he ain’t riled. He’ll put on his manners for yore company.” Hattie caught Logan and Bryce sharing a meaningful glance, and she gave a tight smile.

  At least they’d taken her words to heart. Facing a man in the grip of drink was a bitter thing. No less taxing than telling his daughter in Californy that her old man had taken a bad turn. She and Miz Willow hadn’t managed to work up the nerve yet, for fear Lovejoy would fret over things she couldn’t change. Now maybe Logan and Bryce could help do something about the situation. Maybe not.

  Rooster burst out of the barn, slapping his hat on his head and stumbling a little to meet them. Nessie carefully shut the barn door behind her and followed at a little distance, wringing her hands.

  “Howdy.” Rooster vigorously pumped Logan’s hand. “Niiish ta meetcha.” He turned to Bryce and did the same. “You, too.”

  He stood back to get a good gander at them, puffing out his gray-streaked red beard and putting his hands on his suspenders.

  “Which one of you whippersnappers married m’ girl?”

  Chapter 11

  The man reeked of whiskey and all but fell over when he leaned back to look at them. Logan and Bryce exchanged another look, neither one too eager to answer their brother’s father-in-law.

  “Pa,” Nessie spoke in a low whisper. “Neither of them—”

  “What?” Rooster reared back and reeled forward. “Which one of you low-down polecats be livin’ with my Lovejoy in sin? Come on, take it like a man.” He brandished unsteady fists and danced around—the better to roar at each of them.

  Logan had seen about enough. On a handful of occasions, he’d taken a nip of the hard stuff and knew how it could change a man. Since he’d gotten right with the Lord, he’d laid off the stuff. This man needed to have his head dunked in a trough a few times, followed by a pot of strong coffee and a long talk with a brother in Christ.

  For now, there’d be no reasoning with him. Logan started to roll up his sleeves and saw Bryce do the same. The water trough stood about twenty paces to their left. He only hoped the thing was full of enough water to cool Rooster’s hot head.

  “Now then, Rooster.” Hattie stepped in front of Logan. “Jist calm down a minute.”

  “Calm down! These heathens done ruint my firstborn!”

  Logan put his hands on Hattie’s upper arms and made to sweep her behind himself. She didn’t budge, so he tried to step around her. Then she moved—back in front of him. He gritted his teeth as she kept talking.

  “No, Lovejoy married Daniel Chance. These are Logan and Bryce, come to tell you what a good wife yore daughter is to their brother.”

  It took two repetitions before understanding banked the fire in the old man’s eyes. He swiped off his hat and scratched his head. “I’ve made a right ole mess of things, ain’t I?”

  “You’ve raised fine daughters, Mr. Linden.” Logan finally succeeded in gently pushing Hattie behind him. “But your actions aren’t doing them proud.”

  “Oo-ee.” Rooster sucked in a shallow breath. “That do cut to the quick.” He hung his head. “You don’ need to tell anybody ’bout my lack of manners. I’d hate to shame Lovejoy. Schhee’s been good to me.” He slung his arm around Nessie, who had to take a step forward so as not to buckle. “We miss her ’round here.”

  “I’m sure you do, Mr. Linden,” Bryce acknowledged, “but that’s no reason to ply yourself with liquor.”

  “Here now.” Rooster drew himself up. “Don’t be castin’ as–asp–aspursi, uh, sschoe black on m’ good name.”

  “He jist tole it like he sees it, Rooster.” Hattie came forward again, and Logan didn’t try to stop her. The old man’s humiliation had sobered him up a bit. “ ’Tis barely even noon.” Her voice lowered to such a soft whisper that Logan had to strain to catch it. “Miz Willow’s been wantin’ to speak with you about it for a long while now.”

  “Did yer brung me shum of my headache tonic?” Rooster shrank into himself, looking thin and frail. “I’ve need for more.”

  “No, Rooster.” Hattie patted his shoulder. “You need to come down to the cabin so we cain talk ’bout what’s best to cure them headaches.”

  “I been doin’ tolerable.” Rooster jerked a thumb at his daughter. “Nessie here’ll go on down for some more tea.”

  “No, Pa.” Nessie’s small voice hung in the wind.

  “We’re happy to see Nessie anytime. Like Logan said, you’ve raised fine gals, Rooster,” Hattie soothed. “But Miz Willow and I cain’t be givin’ you yore medicine when you don’t come in. As healers, we need to make shore we’re a-givin’ you the right treatment. Why don’t you come on down, and we’ll talk about it?”

  Logan realized what she was trying to do. She and Miz Willow planned to confront the man about being jug-bit, but Rooster avoided them. Now Hattie wouldn’t treat his ale head until they’d discussed the real problem. Logan only hoped that when the man came to the healer, he’d be in such bad shape he’d agree to almost anything. He’d seen men who had to hit rock bottom before drying out and staying sober. He was only glad the Lord had spared him from being one of them.

  One thing’s for certain: I’ll be there when Rooster Linden comes to call. The man’s a threat. Poor Nessie looks worn down. Under no circumstances will I allow Rooster to be alone with Hattie or Miz Willow.

  By the time Rooster had settled down and agreed to stop by and have a long-overdue chat with Miz Willow, the sun shone high in the sky. Hattie took Nessie aside for a little chat after Bryce handed her a parcel. They went and sat at the base of an old elm while the men talked and Rooster opened his package.

  “I’ve not seen you in a while, Nessie.” Hattie kept her voice light. “How are you getting along?”

  “Fair to middlin’, I suppose.” Nessie toyed with the end of her string. “You know how it goes.”

  “Nessie.” Hattie waited until she looked up. Hard to believe Nessie was two years younger—life had her looking careworn as an old quilt. “I do know. That’s why I ask.”

  “Oh.” A tear slid along the side of Nessie’s nose. “Pa’s never clear these days. Usually he’s jist melancholy and sits alone jawin’ at himself, and some days he’s right cheery and gits out his jug to play awhile. Then he’s pert near tolerable. But when he’s riled…” The floodgates opened. “I know he don’t mean the things he says, but a girl cain only hear it so many times afore it seems true. I jist stay outta his way as best I cain and make shore there’s sommat for him to eat iff ’n he wants it. Thar’s nothin’ else I cain do to holp him. I jist hafta watch him drink hisself into an early grave.”

  “Here you go, honey.” Hattie put her arm around the gal’s shoulders and handed her a clean hanky. A healer was never without a few clean cloths. She waited for Nes
sie to cry herself out a bit.

  “I mean, he only hit me that once, and it were an accident ’cuz I was a-pullin’ him away from the fire and his arms was flailin’. So don’ worry yerself ’bout that a-tall. He really ain’t a violent man.” Having said her piece, Nessie stopped talking.

  “Why don’t we put it afore the Lord, Nessie?” It was the best advice Hattie had. “I’ll pray with you for yore pa, iff ’n you want.”

  “Thankee, Hattie.” Nessie twisted the handkerchief a few times before letting it drop in her lap.

  Hattie took Nessie’s hands in hers and gave a reassuring squeeze. She could only hope that she and Miz Willow were successful in talking turkey with old Rooster when he finally came to call. If he didn’t want to change, there was precious little they could do about it except pray.

  “Dear heavenly Father, we come to You now in search of Yore guidance. We know You call Yore children to walk ‘with longsuffering, forbearing one another in love,’ and we ask for Yore holp in putting that into practice. Nessie’s pa is in a bad way, Lord. He dug hisself a hole so deep that his daughter cain’t hardly look after him and see the light herself. We know of Yore words on those who abuse likker: ‘Woe unto them that rise up early in the morning, that they may follow strong drink; that continue until night, till wine inflame them!’ Well, Father, I reckon Rooster’s feeling that woe, and we pray it brings him back to Yore love. Let Yore glory inflame his heart and displace the cheap lures of moonshine. Amen.”

  Nessie gave her a watery smile and leaned back to dry her eyes. The both sat in silence for a minute, and Hattie was grateful for the time they had alone. The men never need know how much Nessie needed support.

  “Thankee. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Hattie Thales. I think the Lord gave this holler a great blessing when He called you to be a healer. There’s wounds as cain’t be seen by most, but you’ve the gift of carin’. You remind me how the Lord is always with us.” Nessie reached out to stop Hattie from smoothing her braid. “Now don’t be fiddlin’. I know yore modest, but it does no justice to you nor gives glory to the Lord to dismiss earned praise. It’s honest appreciation, Hattie.” Nessie’s eyes grew moist again, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s all I have to give you.”