The Brides of Chance Collection

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

  One look at the delighted surprise on her baby boy’s face and the words died on her lips. Bryce wasn’t about to drop Jamie—she needed to stop overreacting. Daisy took a deep breath and joined Silk, while Bryce carried Jamie and walked with Miz Willow to the circle that was forming.

  Everybody gathered around Logan and Hattie to watch them open their wedding gifts. Daisy and Silk waited for the chatter to die down before handing the first package to the happy couple.

  “Wait a minute!” Rooster Linden stood up. “I got summat to say. Firstly, my gift for the happy couple is up at my place. It’s a new buckboard, only I ain’t got a horse to pull it down here jist yet, on account of loanin’ her to a friend in need.” He grinned, then sobered. “Second, and more important, I want to say in front of everybody here how grateful I am to Hattie, Logan, and Bryce Chance. They saw me through a time when I had to fight my demons. I wouldn’t have pulled through if it weren’t for them. Yore fine folks, and I’m glad to have Logan stayin’ in the holler. I’m shore I ain’t the only one who feels that way.” He paused while cheers erupted all around.

  “Because of their holp and yore prayers, I’ve stopped drinkin’ likker. I know I ain’t the only man in this holler who owes you a ‘thankee,’ but it comes from the bottom of my heart. I wish you two a long and happy marriage!” With that, he sat back down, and the gift giving could truly begin. Logan ripped open the first package.

  “Beautiful workmanship,” he praised, running his hands over the graceful curves of hand-carved swan-neck towel pegs.

  “I thought they’d look good on the wall of yore new home.” Asa Pleasant spoke modestly but beamed at their pleasure.

  “I expect so,” Logan agreed.

  Hattie opened the next gift, a full set of towels, embroidered by Silk Trevor.

  “These’re lovely, Silk!” She held up the corner of a wash-cloth and traced the delicate blue C adorning the corner.

  “We’ll be sure to hang them on our washstand,” Logan planned aloud as he opened a bundle.

  “That thar’s an ole family recipe fer pickled pigs’ feet.” Her husband nowhere in sight, Bethilda Cleary spoke loudly as Hattie picked up a card from the baking dish. “Ain’t nobody makes it better’n my daughters, Lily and Lark, but you cain’t go wrong with that thar recipe.” Having spoken her piece, Bethilda sat back down.

  “Thankee, Bethilda.” Hattie put the cookware to the side as Logan accepted another parcel.

  “I hope you like it.” Abigail Rucker shifted her new baby to her shoulder while her husband, Nate, the holler’s hulking blacksmith, rubbed her back between her shoulder blades.

  Logan unfurled a braided hearth rug in varying shades of blue cloth.

  “When did you ever find the time to make this, Abby?” Hattie stroked the pretty rug.

  “Bitty Nate here don’t let me sleep much anyhow.” Abby blushed with pleasure. “I started it as soon as y’all tole me ’bout yore engagement.”

  “So did I.” Cantankerous old Otis Nye shuffled forward with a large object covered by an old sheet. He set it before the newlyweds and backed up, waiting for them to reveal what he’d made.

  Logan gave the sheet a short tug. It slid to the ground, revealing a maple wedding chest.

  “Ooh,” Hattie breathed, reaching out to touch the flowers chiseled into the wood. Otis had carved blooming vines to encircle the smooth wooden sides of the chest.

  “Figgured it were fittin’ since yore our healer, Hattie.” The old man spoke gruffly, but everyone knew he couldn’t discount the time and care he’d put into his gift. “And Logan here’s the one who’s got me carvin’ all the time now anyway.”

  “That’s right.” Logan walked over and clapped the old man on the back. “Jack Tarhill back in Louisville is gearing up for that next shipment of yours. He’s very pleased with how things are working out with your and Asa’s carving. Those checker sets and nativities sell very well.”

  “Of course they do!” Otis drew himself up and broke into a grin.

  Hattie opened the next package, drawing out a beautiful blue and green wedding ring quilt.

  “Miz Willow, you shouldn’t have!” She fingered the thick fabric. “This belonged to yore ma.”

  “The good Lord didn’t see fit to give me a child of my flesh.” The old woman’s eyes glistened. “But yore the daughter of my heart, Hattie. I figgured the time’s come to pass it on.”

  Hattie handed Logan the quilt before rushing over to the old widow and enveloping her in a tight hug.

  Ma gave me a quilt like that on Peter’s and my weddin’ day. Daisy blinked back tears of loss. It burned in the fire, and now I don’t have anything to remember her by.

  Women started to gather up the dishes left over from the feast. A lot of folks had a bit of a walk before they got back home, and the celebration had stretched through the afternoon. The time had come to get home to waiting chores.

  Daisy slung Jamie on her hip and gathered the now-empty dishes she’d brought for the celebration. Miz Willow leaned on her cane as she hobbled on the path. Logan carried the swan-neck towel pegs and the hearth rug, while Hattie cradled their monogrammed linens. Bryce walked a bit behind, his arms full with the new wedding chest. He’d seen to it that the quilt rested inside.

  After putting the bounty in Hattie and Logan’s new home, Bryce retired to the barn loft where he and Logan had slept since arriving in Salt Lick Holler. He tossed his boots on Logan’s empty pallet before bunking down.

  At least I’ll get a good night’s sleep without Logan’s yammering.

  “Hope you have a fine time,” Miz Willow called after them as Logan and Hattie departed for the train station early the next morning.

  “Good-bye!” Daisy waved.

  From her arms, Jamie clapped his hands and let out a slightly garbled “Bye!”

  “See you in two weeks.” Bryce supported Miz Willow’s elbow out in the yard. It seemed only fitting to give the newlyweds a proper send-off.

  Once the happy couple disappeared around the bend, Daisy and Jamie trailed into the house behind Miz Willow—probably to clean up after their hasty breakfast. Bryce headed for the barn. He grabbed the milking pail and set the three-legged stool beside the cow.

  “Mornin’, Starla.” He gave her a pat on the rump before he set about the business at hand. When the pail was full, he went out to the well and drew up last night’s cold milk to exchange for the fresh. Before he and Logan had arrived, this well was the only way Hattie and Miz Willow could draw water. Now that he and Logan had installed a new water pump and piping, the well could be used strictly to keep things fresh and cool. He picked it up and headed for the cabin.

  “Here you go.” He plunked the pail down on the table.

  “Thankee, Bryce.” Miz Willow made her way across the room. “I’m fixin’ to do some baking today.”

  Bryce looked around. Daisy busily swiped a rag around the furniture, keeping everything spick-and-span. Jamie sat on his pallet, stacking blocks. Bryce hunkered down to look the boy in the eye.

  “What do you say you come and help me gather eggs this morning, Jamie?”

  “Ma?” he questioned his mother before answering.

  Bryce saw Daisy hesitate and could practically hear the thoughts running through her mind. What if the chickens scratch her son or, worse, peck him? He hadn’t missed the panicked look on her face the day before when he’d tossed Jamie into the air.

  “I’ll hold him,” Bryce reassured her. “Jamie can help me hang on to the basket.” It would do the little tyke good to do something other than play with blocks and study. Jamie’s legs were twisted and jerky, but he had a lot more control over his hands and arms.

  “All right,” she assented with a slow nod. Jamie mimicked the motion, nodding eagerly and stretching up his arms.

  Bryce scooped him up, handed the boy the egg basket, and tromped back to the barn. Jamie sat in the crook of his left arm, cradling the basket as Bryce opened the chicken coop.
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  “You have to be real quiet so you don’t startle them,” Bryce explained. “Then you reach under them, nice and gentle, to see if there’s an egg.” He spoke the instructions as he found the first egg. “Then we put it in the basket. Want to help with the next one?”

  “ ’Es.” Jamie nodded somberly.

  “Good.” Bryce took the basket and looped it over his arm, then guided Jamie’s hand into the next nest.

  Jamie stroked the feathers of one of the birds. His touch was clumsy but gentle.

  Bryce helped the little boy reach under the chicken and find the egg. “Feel that?”

  “ ’Es,” he whispered excitedly, his little hand closing around the egg and tugging it free.

  “Good job,” Bryce praised as he steadied Jamie’s arm so he could place the egg in the basket.

  The job took far more time than usual, but Bryce enjoyed the look of wonder and excitement on the little boy’s face. If something as simple as gathering eggs could make the lad feel included, Bryce would make sure to find other things the boy could do. He carried the child and eggs back into the house.

  “We’re all done.” Bryce transferred Jamie to Daisy’s arms, then set the eggs on the table. “Eleven of ’em.”

  “Did you have fun?” Daisy cuddled her son close.

  “None boken,” Jamie declared proudly.

  “That’s right. Jamie was a big help. The chickens like him.”

  “That’s my little man!” At the grin on her son’s face, Daisy broke into a matching smile.

  When she turned the full force of that smile onto Bryce, he almost stepped back from the impact. Daisy’s brown eyes positively shone with the joy she found in her son. Bryce always knew she was attractive, but when she glowed with love, Daisy became the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  Bryce headed for the door. “I’ve got some things to tend to.” He winced at how abrupt he sounded, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d hardly taken a step when he felt a soft hand on his arm.

  “Thankee.” Daisy smiled up at him with gratitude and happiness. The warmth of her smile and the heat of her palm on his arm sparked something in him.

  “Welcome,” Bryce responded gruffly before retreating to the safety of the barn, where he always knew what to do.

  Lord, I can understand what to do with a horse or any other creature—how to put ’em at ease. So why am I at such a loss with the pretty little widow with her heartfelt smile?

  Chapter 4

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that man got flustered when I thanked him, Daisy mused as Bryce disappeared from view. He’s one of those men who likes to do for others but doesn’t know how to handle the appreciation afterward. It’s sweet—jist like the way he treats Jamie. It’s mighty nice of him to take an interest in my boy while he’s here. Jamie’ll never know his pa, but he cain relish bein’ ’round a man like Bryce, even iff ’n ’tis for but a brief time.

  Well, if he won’t take an honest thankee I’ll jist find another way to show my appreciation. Daisy thought for a moment before remembering the way Bryce tucked into the apple pie she’d made last month. I reckon he’s got a sweet tooth to match his nature. I’ll whip up some pudding for dessert today. He oughta enjoy that. Besides, it’s one of Jamie’s favorites.

  With her mind made up, Daisy left Miz Willow teaching Jamie his letters and walked into Logan and Hattie’s cabin. Her closest friend hadn’t had the time to settle into the home her man made for her before being whisked off to Louisville. By the time Hattie and Logan get back, Daisy determined, their cabin’ll be all fixed up and ready to be a home.

  She rolled up her sleeves and set to work. The addition wasn’t overly large, but it didn’t need to be. The cooking would still be done in the main cabin, and Logan married Hattie knowing full well she couldn’t bear any children. For the two of them, the cozy room would be a perfect fit.

  A harp-backed washstand with a single drawer and small cupboard sat beneath a goodly sized window, where the sunlight would warm the wash water a bit. Another wall boasted a modest fireplace to heat the room. Logan’s new desk butted up against the third wall, and a real, above-the-ground bed nestled up to the wall this room shared with the main cabin.

  But the pile of wedding gifts lay in the corner, waiting to put the finishing touches on the home. Daisy walked over and found the swan-neck clothing pegs. These should be hung by the hearth, with winter coming on. Jist not too close. She shuddered at the memory of the fire before straightening her shoulders. She walked out to the barn to find a hammer and ran into Bryce.

  “Howdy.” The big man took a step back.

  “Hello. I’m lookin’ for a hammer and some nails.” Daisy peered around the barn. “Any idea where I cain find ’em?”

  Bryce nodded, walked to a far corner, and returned in a minute with the requested tools. He held them out to her wordlessly, and Daisy accepted them.

  I cain’t make him talk to me, she reasoned, but maybe iff ’n I speak first, he’ll come ’round.

  “You and yore brother made a fine home for Hattie.” Daisy smiled as she spoke. “I’m gonna fix it up a bit so it’s ready when they get back.”

  “Needs a woman’s touch,” Bryce agreed.

  “ ’Zactly.” Daisy breathed a sigh of relief that Bryce didn’t actually seem to mind talking to her—he just needed to be drawn out a little. “Hattie’d have it done in a trice, but she’s off to Louisville, so I figgured I’d put away the weddin’ gifts and get ’em all set up.”

  “Mighty thoughtful of you.” Bryce rubbed the back of his neck as if puzzling over something. “What’re the hammer and nails for?”

  “The swan-neck wall hooks need to be hung.” Daisy laughed. “I cain only hope I get ’em up straight.”

  “I’ll do it,” Bryce offered. “I’ve just finished the mantelpiece and need to put it up anyway.”

  “Makes sense to me.” Daisy passed the hammer back to him, pleased at the progress she’d made. Bryce wasn’t much of a talker, but that was all right. He went out of his way to do nice things for the people she cared about, so Daisy didn’t mind making the extra effort to put him at ease.

  The rest of the morning passed quickly as Daisy and Bryce worked together inside the cabin. Neither spoke much. It was enough to be working alongside each other.

  While he made tiny pencil marks on the wall, determining where to hang the pegs, she carefully folded the monogrammed towels and hung them across the top of the wooden washstand. The monogrammed C in the corner of each towel marched across the row, each one a little higher than the last.

  “They don’t have a mirror,” she noted. She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Bryce stopped hammering.

  “You think they need one?” Bryce’s words could’ve been a question or just a flat statement.

  “Of course!” Daisy decided to treat it as if it were a question. Men! “How else do you get yoreself ready for the day? What about yore hair?”

  “Not that complicated.” Bryce ran a hand through his wavy brown hair, mussing it up just enough to make Daisy itch to tug it back in place.

  “Maybe not for you,” she admitted, “but what about Hattie? Or,” she added triumphantly, “Logan shaving?”

  “We don’t have a mirror out in the barn.” Bryce rubbed his jaw with his big, strong hand. “We do it by feel.”

  Daisy’s mouth went dry. By the end of the day, Bryce’s jaw boasts a dark shadow, making him look a little rugged—like he needs a good woman. She couldn’t think of a single thing that was fitting to say, so she just shrugged.

  “Those hooks look wondrous fine!” He’d put four of them in a neat row by the hearth, and the other two were thoughtfully stationed beside the door.

  Bryce jerked a thumb toward the latter. “I thought it’d be nice for when Hattie comes in after healing, to hang her cloak.” He smirked. “And then there’s one for Logan’s hat.”

  “His and hers,” Daisy mused. “Perfect.”


  Bryce got to work on the mantelpiece he and Logan had sanded together. With supportive legs along either side of the hearth to brace it, the subtle curves of the mantel wouldn’t overpower the wall but would look like a natural part of the room.

  While he worked, he watched Daisy from the corner of his eye. She bustled around contentedly, plumping a pillow here, then tucking in the edges of the wedding quilt she brought out of Hattie and Logan’s new chest and put on the bed. He caught her trying to scooch the chest across the floor.

  “Here.” He picked the wooden chest up off the ground just as she was ready to give it another hefty push. A few flaxen tendrils of hair had escaped her fancy updo, and Bryce had a sudden picture of her brushing her hair, the golden locks spread over her shoulders. He decided to get that mirror she’d been talking about. Their eyes locked, and Bryce felt the breath hitch in his chest.

  A sudden gust of air banged the door shut, breaking the moment. Daisy shook her head as though to clear it, then pointed to the far wall. “I was fixin’ to put it at the foot of the bed.”

  Bryce tromped over and obligingly lowered the carved trunk in place. He stepped back to where he’d been working on the mantelpiece.

  “Thankee, Bryce.” Her words were so soft, he almost thought he imagined them.

  And why wouldn’t she be hesitant to thank you after the way you jackrabbited out of the house this morning? he scolded himself. Say something this time!

  “Anytime.” He forced a smile. “You could’ve just asked for help, Daisy.” Her name tasted sweet as he spoke it.

  “I would’ve gotten it there.” Daisy’s shoulders straightened, and she poked her chin out. “Women aren’t helpless.”

  Now you’ve done it. You offended her. Bryce gave himself a mental kick. “I never thought you were helpless.” He searched for the words. “You’re a strong woman, supporting yourself and your son. I just meant you don’t always have to do everything alone.”

  “You’re right.” She softened a bit and rewarded him with an apologetic smile.