The Brides of Chance Collection

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

  He’s a good and wise man, that Bryce Chance. Jamie’s lucky to learn from him for however long he stays. I’m glad he’s here. I jist wish I could say the same thing about myself. When I think of how I treated him, I could sink into the dirt like a worm.

  “Tomorrow I’ll do better,” she resolved as she finally crawled into bed.

  The next morning, Daisy awoke feeling better than she had in two days. Bryce was back, and better still, he hadn’t insulted Jamie and never would.

  Daisy jumped out of bed and hurried to get dressed. She’d make a huge mess of flapjacks to celebrate. It was going to be a wonderful day.

  Bryce tapped on the door while she set the platter of food on the table. Miz Willow slid the comb through Jamie’s hair one last time.

  “Come on in,” she called.

  “Morning.” Bryce stood for a second in the doorway as he always did, probably letting his eyes adjust. After the bright morning sunshine, the cabin seemed dim in comparison.

  His broad shoulders filled the doorway, the sun catching his brown hair and giving it a rich glow. His image alongside Daisy’s recollection of his kindness the night before made him seem larger than life as he stepped inside.

  “Hi, Byce!” Jamie scooched urgently across the floor and flung his arms in the air.

  Bryce didn’t hesitate a second to scoop the little boy into his arms. “Mornin’, Jamie.”

  “Mor’in’,” Jamie repeated excitedly.

  “Do you remember what I told you I’d bring back when I left?” Bryce leaned close and spoke in a loud whisper. Daisy heard every word.

  So he had told Jamie he’d have to be gone for a short time. Jamie wasn’t sad when she told him; he was remembering that Bryce had shared a secret with him.

  Jamie glanced around the cabin at Daisy and Miz Willow before putting a finger to his lips.

  “Not anymore, buddy.” Bryce turned Jamie a bit so they both faced the women. “Now we get to tell them. We’re going to be hauling in a…” Bryce nodded at Jamie to finish telling the surprise.

  “Sofe!” Jamie threw his hands up in the air.

  “That’s right. A stove.” Bryce set Jamie down at the table and sat beside him. “And not just any old stove. This one’s for heating and for cooking.”

  “Glory be!” Miz Willow beamed at them. “The Chance family bought Hattie and Logan a kitchen range stove! What a surprise for when they get back.”

  “Wonderful!” Daisy exclaimed. Cooking would be a lot simpler with a stove, once she and Hattie learned to use it. “We’ll have to move a few things….”

  “No, it’s far too big to fit in Hattie and Logan’s room.” Bryce beamed. “Besides, the cooking is done in here anyway. Just makes sense.”

  Daisy couldn’t stop smiling at that. It did make sense, and it made sure that everyone was included. A stove would mean a warmer winter for Miz Willow’s rheumatiz and less chance for stray sparks. She’d sleep better knowing her son wouldn’t face another fire.

  After breakfast—Daisy noticed with satisfaction how Bryce happily polished off the last few flapjacks—she and Bryce went to open up the crate. Miz Willow had taken Jamie to visit with a few young children in the area.

  “Shore is big,” Daisy observed.

  “I thought the same thing,” Bryce admitted. “I hope it has a lot of packing straw inside for shipping.”

  “We’ll see.” Daisy grabbed one of the hammers to start prying off some nails.

  “Wait a minute.” Bryce stopped her.

  “You want to start on the other side?” She craned her neck to get a better view.

  “No. I want to show you something.” Bryce handed her a flat package.

  “It’s for Hattie and Logan, but it was your idea.” His smiled seemed a little shy. “Open it.”

  Daisy unwound the brown paper to uncover a framed mirror a little bigger than the one on Miz Willow’s wall.

  “You remembered!” She traced the wooden oval that was decorated with vines similar to those Otis Nye had carved on the wedding chest. “It matches the chest so well. Hattie will love it.”

  Bryce’s grin filled her heart. He hadn’t agreed that a mirror was strictly necessary, but he trusted her and was thoughtful enough to follow through. He surprised her at every turn.

  “Let’s go hang it above the washstand,” he suggested.

  She nodded, following him into the cabin. He pounded in a nail at the right height, and she reached up to hang it.

  “Whoa.” Bryce’s hands covered hers as the frame slipped. The metal ring on the back of the frame hadn’t caught on the nail.

  He was so close, his arms reaching over her shoulders, his hands warm and rough on hers. Heat coursed through her. She hadn’t been this close to a man since Peter died, and she had forgotten how safe and cherished it made her feel.

  Why would she remember that now, with a man she already knew would leave soon? Bryce Chance was a good man, but surely he didn’t feel anything for the plump widow with a four-year-old son. When Jamie was born, she’d become a mother. Why did Bryce remind her she was still a woman?

  Daisy felt so soft against him, fresh and sweet like some kind of flower after the rain. Her hair brushed softly against his sleeve; her hands seemed so small and smooth beneath his.

  Her surprise was reflected in the mirror. Daisy’s golden locks and fair skin glowed next to his dark hair and sun-darkened skin. Her pink mouth opened in an O of surprise; her brown eyes looked deep and dreamy.

  She made him feel big and strong, powerful to protect her against the world, and all he wanted was to hold her safe. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until Daisy slipped her hands from beneath his and moved away.

  He stood for a moment, bereft, before sliding the mirror into place and clearing his throat. He stared into her eyes.

  “Looks good to me.” He didn’t mean only the mirror, but Daisy didn’t acknowledge what had passed between them.

  “Jist right.” She patted her hair. “Now let’s go see about that stove.” She led the way out the door, but Bryce didn’t mind. Daisy was worth going after.

  Chapter 7

  Bryce hitched the horses to the wagon and had them pull the stove as close to the door as possible before tying the stove directly to the harness. It was the only way to get the box out of the wagon. Then he tackled trying to open it.

  “There!” With a final heave of the crowbar, the front of the crate opened wide. Bryce stared at the stove, which took up almost the entire space inside the crate.

  Whoever boxed it hadn’t used a lot of packing straw; they hadn’t needed to. The crate itself made a tight fit, with little chance the stove would slide around and become damaged.

  “It’s incredible!” Daisy walked around it, looking from every angle. “A woodburning stove, a kitchen range top, and even an oven built right in!” She opened the oven door experimentally and peeked inside.

  Bryce smiled at her excitement. The stove was a beauty all right, but he didn’t see how he could move it. If it had come in pieces or could be disassembled, he’d have managed. As it was, the thing was fully constructed with the pieces welded together. It had already been difficult to ease it out of the wagon onto a haystack and down to the ground. Bryce didn’t see how he could move it to the cabin.

  “I’ll go get the pie tins.” Daisy rushed off before Bryce could ask her what she was talking about. She returned in a moment with four metal pie tins.

  “Ready?” she asked expectantly, crouching beside one of the stove feet.

  “For what?” Bryce hated to admit it, but he had no idea what she was doing.

  “You lift up the edge, and I’ll slide the pie tin under the leg. We do it four times; then we can slide the stove to the door.” She blinked at him. “It’s too heavy to lift.”

  “Right.” Bryce hefted one corner of the stove. Pie tins weren’t wheels. He had his doubts about this scheme.

  Once the pie tins were in place, Daisy hopped around,
pushing aside bits of wood to clear a path. When she gave the signal, Bryce got behind the stove and gave it a mighty heave, expecting the heavy thing to scarcely budge.

  He just about ended up on the ground for his doubts as the thing slid a goodly distance.

  “It works!” He couldn’t hide his amazement. The metal pie tins made the stove slide smoothly across the hard-packed dirt. He’d never have thought of this in a million years.

  “Of course it does,” Daisy teased him with an amused grin. “So how about putting those pie tins to work?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Bryce put his hands on the stove and slid it to the doorstep.

  “We’ll have to lift this monster to get it inside on the wooden floor,” he mused. “I’ll go in backward and lift while you push it on the two back feet. It’ll slide forward, and then I’ll yank it inside.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Bryce backed into position, stepping inside and crouching to lift the bottom of the stove the requisite few inches. “Now!”

  He pulled, Daisy pushed, and a resounding cra–a–ack rent the air as the stove lodged itself in the doorframe. Bryce let go, but the stove didn’t move. He put his hands on the range and leaned over it to get a view from the outside.

  “It’s splintered the doorway,” Daisy moaned, hovering close. She squinted and stepped back. “Mayhap if I try and yank it back—”

  “Nothing doing,” Bryce stated firmly. “If the weight of the thing itself won’t tilt it, there’s precious little you or I can do. The thing’s about two inches too wide to get inside the building.”

  “What’re we gonna do?”

  “Stand back, Daisy,” Bryce ordered. “I’m going to have to try and push it back out.”

  “All right, Bryce. Go ahead.”

  He gave the stove a quick shove, but the thing didn’t budge. He put his weight into it, digging in with his feet and using all the force he could muster.

  “I’m out of the way now,” Daisy clarified.

  Bryce couldn’t help it. After three days of miscommunication, hefting, and transporting the stove…

  “It’s stuck,” he admitted.

  “Stuck?” Daisy repeated dumbly. “Just how hard a push did I give that thing?” She walked up to the blocked doorway before venturing an opinion. “Mayhap if I wiggle it a little…” She grasped the edges and tried to move it from side to side, hoping to loosen the metal from where it jammed in the wooden doorframe.

  She leaned back as Bryce leapfrogged over the stove and slid down the flat range to stand beside her. Together they looked at the very heavy problem.

  “So…no new stove inside the cabin.” Daisy spoke more to break the silence than to really contribute. This had her stumped.

  “And no doorway at all,” Bryce finished woefully.

  “Miz Willow and Jamie will be back in a couple hours,” Daisy fretted. “What are we going to do?”

  “If we can’t get the stove in,” Bryce said, “we’ll have to get the doorframe out. If you go to the far left corner of the barn, you’ll find the toolbox. Bring that and an ax from the wall. I’ll get back inside and start taking the door off its hinges to give us more work space.”

  Daisy watched as he carefully squeezed through the doorway, somehow managing not to bang his head on his way through. Then she hurried to the barn, found the tools, and brought them back.

  Bryce had already popped the door off its hinges and leaned it against the far wall. She passed him the saw. He squinted at the frame and placed the saw a few inches above where the stove stuck out.

  Daisy stepped back. The doorframe was made of three pieces; the two long ones connected by the short one at the top.

  “Wait a minute! Why don’t you try separating the doorjamb at the top? It’s gonna be awful hard to saw hunks out of that frame.”

  “Hmm.” Bryce stepped back and craned his neck upwards. “I see what you mean.” He pulled over one of the benches. “Would you give me a hammer?”

  She passed him one and watched as he pried loose the nails joining the wood together, then worked the top beam free. He clasped his hands around one of the sides and tugged.

  Cre–e–eak. The wood protested ominously as Bryce tried to angle it a little. He hopped down from the bench.

  “Easiest thing to do will be using a chisel to split the board longways, then pull it apart.”

  “All right.” Daisy rummaged for a chisel and rubber mallet.

  “The stove being jammed in already started a crack.” Bryce ran his hand along the frame. “I’ll continue it.”

  He was as good as his word. After expanding the crack, he asked for the crowbar and pried the wood apart.

  “I’ll take care of it from this side, Bryce.” Daisy wielded the crowbar with precious little skill but more than enough determination. Soon she’d torn the last of the doorframe from around the stove.

  “I think,” Daisy panted, tossing the last fragment away, “this should be the first wood we burn.”

  Bryce’s laughter rumbled over her, the deep sound sweeping away her frustration and making her see the humor in the situation. She started to laugh, too.

  After they recovered, they managed to coax and shove the stove into the cabin. Daisy gathered the pie tins, and they pushed the cast-iron monster into place.

  “Ah,” Bryce drew out the appreciative sound, “the time and effort saved by modern technology.”

  Daisy was giggling again. They stood side by side, each with more splinters than they could count, surveying the ruined doorway.

  “I won’t be able to rebuild it tonight,” Bryce assessed. “You, Jamie, and Miz Willow will have to sleep in Hattie and Logan’s room tonight.”

  “Fine by me.” Daisy stretched her aching arms. “Doesn’t matter where I am. I’m shore I’ll sleep jist fine.”

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, after a quick breakfast of day-old bread and butter with milk, they all headed to the school building for church.

  “Beautiful mornin’,” Daisy remarked, toting Jamie on her hip.

  “Yep.” Bryce, his stride shortened so he wouldn’t outpace her and Miz Willow, took in a deep, appreciative breath of the fresh mountain air. He held out his arms to take Jamie, giving her a much-needed rest.

  “We cain fix the door tomorra. I aim to enjoy the day.” Daisy hoped Bryce felt the same way. He might be used to hauling heavy loads—his broad shoulders and strong arms certainly attested to that—but she wasn’t. That stove had been far too heavy, and she, for one, was glad to have a day of rest before tackling the broken doorframe.

  “Right.”

  “Good thing we’re goin’ to the Lindens’ for Sunday dinner.” Miz Willow chuckled. “I don’t know what I would’ve done iff ’n Otis Nye, Rooster, and Nessie were expectin’ to come to our place. No door to open for ’em, stove ain’t ready to cook on, and it blocks my hearth! It’d be a fine sight to see me and Daisy rushin’ around like that.”

  “True.” Daisy gave a small laugh, but the rueful look on Bryce’s face stopped her. “It’s been a lot of work, but that’s a mighty fine gift. I reckon having such a grand stove’ll be more’n worth the wait. Bryce’s been so clever in figgurin’ out how to get the thang inside, the rest should jist fly by. Ev’rythang’ll be up and runnin’ afore Hattie and Logan get back.”

  Bryce’s shoulders relaxed, and though he didn’t smile outright, Daisy knew he understood her appreciation. He’d worked hard and deserved for it to be acknowledged.

  In a few minutes they slid onto their bench and bowed their heads while Asa Pleasant, filling in for the circuit preacher, prayed.

  “Lord, we ask to feel Your presence in this place as we gather together to worship You and strengthen our knowledge of all You are. Please bless this congregation and let it be a fruitful time. Amen.”

  Lord, please give me the strength I need to take care of Jamie. I have a lot of work ahead of me to provide for my son. Let me have the will and the determination to se
e it through. Holp me to figgur out what I need to do. Amen.

  Daisy rose to her feet, cradling Jamie on her hip, as they began to sing the hymns. Funny how I cain’t hear Bryce’s voice so much as feel it next to me. Like a cat purring. I know it’s there, happy and reassuring, but it ain’t like Asa’s raspy voice up there.

  As they began a favorite folk song, Bryce’s comforting rumble stopped. Daisy could tell he was listening hard, trying to catch the words:

  “Enoch lived to be three hundred and sixty-five,

  And then the Lord came down and took him up to heaven alive….”

  They moved through the other verses about Paul being freed from prison, Moses and the burning bush, Adam and Eve, each time coming back to the chorus:

  “I saw, I saw the light from heaven

  Come shinin’ all around.

  I saw the light come shining.

  I saw the light come down.”

  By the third time they sang the refrain, Bryce joined in with them. Daisy smiled as the praise rolled out of him so low and deep it flowed under all the other voices. His sangin’ fits him—quiet and not showy but powerful strong.

  The next morning, Miz Willow took Jamie out to the garden for an outdoor lesson. Daisy had taken care of the herb garden, but the vegetable garden needed weeding.

  Bryce brought out a yardstick and wrote down the dimensions for the doorframe. Then he and Daisy checked out the lumber left over from building Logan and Hattie’s new home. After selecting three pieces of the right width, she and Bryce worked at sawing them to be the proper length. Bryce finished the first two before coming over and polishing off the one she hadn’t gotten through.

  “I don’t know how you do it,” Daisy marveled aloud. Bryce’s shoulders rippled beneath his tan cambric shirt as he worked the saw.

  “Practice,” Bryce answered as he finished. “Lots and lots of it.”

  Next they needed to sand the wood smooth. Bryce handed her a piece of sandpaper, and they got to work.