More Than She Bargained For (The Widow Wagon Book 2)

by Megan Michaels

  Angus nodded his head. “I hear you. And I understand what you mean. But like I said, I won’t tolerate any fighting. If I find you women fighting, you’ll all get switched.” He wagged his finger in her face. “I don’t care who caused it and who was defending who. I’m not putting up with any fighting from women on this wagon.” Angus raised his eyebrows, as if waiting for some sign of acquiescence from Clara.

  Clara put her hand to her throat, a hint of a blush rising on her cheeks. “Yes, Sir. I understand. There… won’t be any fighting.”

  “See that there ain’t. Now, go get the candy for your girls. And you both behave!” Angus turned and walked away, his spurs jangling as he sauntered his way over to Miss Daisy.

  * * *

  Ambling up to the wagon, Angus found Daisy sitting on a bench on the walkway in front of all the different shops on Main Street, not far from the Widow Wagon. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her lips pursed into a pout. She scowled at anyone who would happen to look her way.

  Angus put one large booted foot up on the bench, resting his brawny forearms on his knee. He stood in this manner for a while, regarding her. “So, let’s talk more about the trouble between you and little Nellie. You care to explain what happened between you two?”

  “There isn’t anything to discuss! That little brat came into the wagon sticking her nose in my business, and I let her know that I wasn’t going to tolerate it. End of story!” Daisy stiffened her back, looking away in a show of indifference to Angus.

  Angus decided he wasn’t going to tolerate it either. “Look at me.” He waited until she returned her gaze to him. “I hear there is more to the story than what you’re saying. Did you threaten little Nellie with a switching? And little Nellie says that you’re hiding something in the wagon. So, how’s about we discuss those two things?”

  Daisy’s nostrils flared, her lips a thin line. “Why that little witch! I’m not hiding anything in that damn wagon!”

  Angus leaned forward, pinching her chin between his fingers. “You watch your language, girl, or I’ll paddle your bottom right here in front of all these fine people on Main Street. Is that what you’re looking for today?”

  Daisy tried to pull away, but his strong fingers held her fast. Tears filled her eyes. “No! That’s not what I’m looking for today! But that little brat needs someone to take her in hand. And if her mama won’t, then maybe it’s up to me to do it.”

  “No, it isn’t up to you. I explained these rules to you women the first day. It’s my job to make sure everything here is by the rules and that everyone is behaving. And if someone is misbehaving — as you already know — then I’ll take on the chore of handing out a good tanning. It hasn’t been that long since your backside started healing, so if I was you, I’d start trying to figure out how to follow the rules around here.”

  Daisy swallowed. “I’m not looking for trouble, Sir. I just want people to stay out of my business. And if you can help me with that, it’d be most appreciated.”

  Angus let go of her chin. “Now, that’s better and more like what I want to hear. I’m more than willing to help anybody on the Widow Wagon but I need to know what’s going on first. So how about you tell me what you’re hiding in the wagon.”

  “I ain’t hidin’ anything. It’s mine. I didn’t steal it, and I didn’t take it from anybody. It’s rightfully mine. It’s a ring. A ruby ring that my husband, Jesse, was wearing when he died. The soldiers gave it to me. That’s all! I didn’t want anybody on this wagon to steal it, so I’ve been hiding it. And I was just checking to make sure it was still there, in case Sophie took it before she left.”

  Angus tilted his head, listening to her words. “Why would you think Miss Sophie would steal something from you? I didn’t know her for long — and you didn’t either — but she ain’t that kind of woman.”

  Daisy shrugged. “You never know. Looks are deceiving. You can’t trust what you see with your eyes. I just had to know that it was still there. And it was. I was putting it back in my bag when that brat came in asking if I was okay. I was afraid that she was going to see the ring, and see how it’s so pretty. I didn’t want her deciding to steal it, and that’s why I threatened her with the switching.”

  Angus glared at her. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again — nobody around here is going to be switching that child but her ma or me! You’ll not put a hand anybody in this Widow Wagon, is that clear?”

  “It’s very clear, Mr. Angus. And as long as everybody stays away from my bag, and those damn brats leave me alone, we’ll be fine.”

  “Bag? What bag? Are we talking about the bag that we tussled over on the first day? The one you were forbidden to bring — and the one you got a whipping for that first day?”

  Daisy stood up from the bench, and began to move away, as if she wanted to put distance between them. He stalked her as she walked though. “Miss Daisy, are you telling me that damn carpet bag is still on my wagon? Maybe that whipping I gave you wasn’t harsh enough?”

  Daisy didn’t speak, but vigorously shook her head.

  “No? Is that so? So, are you saying that bag isn’t in the wagon? Or are you agreeing that your whipping wasn’t hard enough?” Angus backed her up against the wagon wheel, leaving the woman no place to run.

  Daisy’s hand went to her throat and she pressed her backside against the wheel. “Uhm... well, Sir. I think the whipping was harsh — very harsh. And...” She turned, looking up the street to see if any of the passersby were watching their confrontation.

  “Don’t you worry about those people. Your only concern right now is me. What about the bag, bad girl?”

  “Well... I’m sorry... it is in the bag. The one I was supposed to get rid of. I didn’t.” She lowered her gaze, taking a quick glance up at him, then looking down once more. “I kept it. I hid it in a corner of the wagon next to the bags of flour. I had to keep it. I didn’t want to leave my ring out. I had to have a way to hide it. Protect it. And... well, I have a pocket in the bag. I’m sorry. Am I getting a whipping again?”

  “My God, you are one troublesome woman!” He sighed loudly, throwing his head back and looking up at the sky for a moment. “You definitely should be whipped. But I understand about personal things, and wanting to keep them safe.” Angus grabbed her chin again, raising her gaze to his as he leaned in close. “You keep your nose clean and stay out of trouble. I won’t whip you this time. But if I have to do it later, this sin will be added to the tally. Understand?”

  “Yes, Sir. I promise. I won’t do anything wrong.” She gave him a quick nod of her head, then quickly walked away.

  * * *

  Daisy wasn’t sure where she was going, but getting as far away from Angus as she could was a damned good start. She cut across the street, holding up her skirts, dodging a coach, its driver barking an irritated curse.

  Angus shouted out to her as she reached the far side of the street. “Don’t you go far! I want to get a move on and I want to make good time today so that we can get to Courthouse Rock tomorrow.”

  Daisy stopped abruptly, looking back at him a moment, but not speaking. That would mean she would be meeting her husband. According to the Widow Wagon schedule, Noah Jensen — her future husband — was supposed to be meeting her at Courthouse Rock. When she started this journey in Independence, Missouri, it seemed so far away. At first, she wasn’t worried about meeting Noah Jensen. Now that it looked like she would be meeting him tomorrow, anxiousness churned in her belly. She didn’t know what to expect from this thirty year old immigrant from Denmark who would take her as his wife. She hoped they would get along. After all, he had been in America for five years. Surely, it was long enough to acclimate — or so she hoped.

  Daisy felt older than her eighteen years; being a widow at such a young age made a person feel weary beyond their years. It didn’t help that she had to wear her mourning dresses for over a year. She longed for her ball gowns and date dresses in shades of red, blue, purple, and yellow.
How would she be able to impress Noah wearing a plain black dress? But that wasn’t really the point of mail order brides. Mail order brides were there to meet a need. He needed a wife to help him on his horse ranch, and she needed a husband so that she wouldn’t be forced to resort to desperate measures for her existence. This wasn’t a match made out of love, but a match made out of convenience.

  “I’m not going far,” she finally called out to the strict driver. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to leave, Angus.”

  She looked forward to the day when she’d no longer be under a man’s thumb.

  Chapter 2

  Noah put all the horses out to pasture, the sun low on the horizon, the dew-covered grass glistening. He felt a sense of satisfaction at seeing all the fenced pastures; he’d spent most of this past spring fixing fences. His boots were wet from walking through the long grass from the pasture to the barn. He stepped inside, wiping his brow as he stood in the cool shadows. All the horses were out except Bonnie, one of the older horses. Normally blessed with a great disposition, the chestnut brown mare with white socks had acted a little subdued this morning, and he didn’t want her stressing the still-healing tendon in the cool of the morning. Much like children, horses tended to play and run in the crisp, spring air. She needed to rest today and would hopefully be ready for a run again tomorrow.

  He stopped at her stall to pet the mature mare. “I know, girl. You aren’t happy with me today. You can play tomorrow.” He gave her an apple — a little reward for being stuck in her stall all day.

  Once he knew she was settled, he started cleaning out the empty stalls in the barn. Noah had only been on this ranch — his ranch — for three years. Emigrating from Denmark had been frightening and quite an undertaking. But he’d done it. His stubbornness had paid off for once in his life. The tenacity and grit required to do this all alone had suited him well. After landing in New York City and staying the required amount of time there as an immigrant, he’d received his papers, and with some other immigrants from Denmark, he made his way to Chimney Rock, Nebraska, settling there with the other Danes.

  Noah had started with only a handful of horses and a small barn. Now, he had over thirty horses. He bought and sold them to the local villages and towns, horse-trading becoming his primary source of income. Now that his life was coming together though, he had decided he needed to have a wife — and a family. Today, he would go into town to get a new shirt to impress Daisy when he picked her up at the station tomorrow.

  Noah walked back to the house he had built himself. It wasn’t huge, but it would make a nice sized home for a family. He had a kitchen, dining room, living room on the ground floor, and three bedrooms upstairs. Each room had one or two windows and he did his best to make the inside clean and bright.

  After working with horses all day, he wanted his house to be calm and relaxing.

  At the stove, his maid Millie stirred a pot of chicken stew. She gave him a small smile and Noah found himself thinking again that she was an attractive woman for being in her fifties. Dark hair cascaded in soft waves around her face and over her shoulders, a hint of gray at the temples, streaks the color of ash highlighting the thick locks. She was curvy with wide hips and a plump ass. A woman who’d birthed her children, and now played with her grandchildren.

  She turned his way and with her soft southern accent said, “Now, Noah, I have this all set for you. So, tomorrow when you bring your new woman home, you just put it by the fire and warm it up. I’ll cook these biscuits before I leave and wrap them up in a dishtowel to keep them fresh until tomorrow. I know that Mary has been cleaning and dusting. She’s changed your bed and the guest bed for whatever arrangement you’re having with the new Missus tomorrow.”

  She smiled at him again, a faint blush rising on her neck when she averted her eyes. It was actually quite adorable, but Noah found the reference to their sleeping arrangements embarrassing nonetheless. “Thank you! You women have done a great job helping me prepare for Daisy tomorrow. I can’t believe how fast this has happened. It seemed months ago when I received her response. I feared that this day might never come, yet here we are — and it’s happening tomorrow.”

  Noah went upstairs to find Mary dusting the dressers and putting flowers in his room to give it a feminine touch he hoped Daisy would be grateful for.

  “Mary, the room looks wonderful. I’m sure Daisy will be thankful for the flowers. It’s very pretty and welcoming here. When you’re done cleaning the rest of the rooms, please feel free to go home. I’ll make sure to pay you extra for coming early this week. I appreciate it.”

  Mary wasn’t more than a year or so past the age of thirty. She had a simple blue calico dress on with small white flowers and a white apron. Since her husband had been hurt falling from the roof of his barn, she had been cleaning peoples’ houses to make ends meet. Noah came up with reasons to have her come more than once a week so that he might be able to help them with their finances. Her husband, Mark, had always been good to him, and Noah had never forgotten it.

  Reaching into his pocket, Noah pulled out some coins, handing them to Mary. “Why don’t you stop at the mercantile on your way home and get your children some candy? Make sure your girls get a new ribbon for their hair too.”

  “Oh, Noah.” Mary’s shoulders slumped and she shook her head at him. “I can’t take this. You’re paying me for cleaning. This isn’t necessary.” She held the coins out to him.

  “You keep those. Besides, they aren’t for you — they’re for the girls. No arguments.” He folded her fingers back over the coins, giving her a mock frown. “You don’t want to get in trouble with me. I’ll tell Mark you were misbehaving.”

  Mary blushed, putting the money in her apron pocket. “Well, I guess I’ll be done here then. Once your wife is here, there’ll be no need for me or Millie to be here taking care of your house.”

  “Oh, no. I’ll be keeping you and Millie both to clean and cook. This is an arrangement between myself and you women. Daisy will adjust to whatever arrangements I’ve made. It shouldn’t be an issue.”

  “Well… women don’t always take kindly to other women in their house. She might not like it, Noah.”

  Noticing the way Millie had fluffed the pillows on the bed, Noah once again found himself amazed at the little touches a woman added to a house. “You let me handle my new wife, and you just continue to clean — as scheduled.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Chapter 3

  Daisy and the women plodded behind the wagon. The dusty trails were at least well-worn after all the years of travelers making their trek west to Oregon Territory. Although there were other trails going west, the Oregon Trail had the heaviest traffic.

  Daisy walked to the left of the deep wheel ruts while the other women stayed on the opposite side. "So, you're all going to walk over there?" She scowled at the women. "I'm not poison you know!"

  "No — you're worse than poison. You're trouble!" Clara gently pulled her children to her right side so they would be that much further away from Daisy. "You stay over there!"

  "Good. Keep them away! I don't want them pestering and bugging me anyway. I'll be meeting Noah soon, and you women will get to travel the rest of the way without me."

  Minnie, with her dark hair and piercing blue eyes, turned her young face toward Margie, one of the other women trudging along in their group. "Thank God for small favors."

  Margie had the beginnings of tiny crow's feet crinkled at the corners of her eyes as she laughed. "I feel bad for that young man. Bless his heart. I hope he has a switch handy for that one, or he won't get a moment's rest."

  All the women laughed, Daisy quickening her steps to get away from the infuriating tittering.

  Daisy found herself lonely in the midst of hundreds of other people, wagons, and oxen walking the trail. She hated that people didn't seem to like her. She'd always had trouble making friends; it wasn't a task that ever came easy to her.

  Especially when it came t
o women.

  She needed Noah to like her, needed to get along with him. For the first time in her life, she was truly alone. No parents, no husband, and now, no friends.

  Her throat tightened as she looked back at her supposed companions on the trip, the group of women and little girls walking alongside the Widow Wagon. She felt even more left out now, almost… neglected.

  It wasn't the first time she'd been convinced she didn't matter — and it probably wouldn't be the last.

  * * *

  Angus stopped for the evening near several other wagons. Pink and purple hues were creeping into the twilight sky. It was safer for them to be near other travelers. The girls had been given their evening chores while Angus and Sam left the campsite to look for wood for the campfire.

  Daisy climbed into the wagon to grab a shawl, and heard giggling toward the back. She couldn’t believe her eyes. There she found both of Clara’s girls, bent over, rummaging through her bag. She leaned over and grabbed Nellie and Rose by the backs of their dresses, hauling them to their feet. Rose, at eight, was considerably shorter than her sister Nellie, but both of them had the same long, blonde ringlets and sky blue eyes. The girls gasped and shrieked in surprise, their arms flailing to keep themselves from pitching over.

  “What do you damn brats think you’re doing? I knew this was going to happen! I just knew it! Did you take it? Did you?” Daisy shook them. “Answer me!”

  “No, Ma’am. We was just lookin’. I wanted to show her how pretty it was, but we didn’t take it. My ma would tan us alive if we ever stole somethin’.” Tears ran down Nellie’s face.

  “Your ring is really pretty, Miss Daisy,” Rose said with a watery voice. “You’re lucky. I didn’t even touch it. Promise.”

  “I should hope not! It’s not yours! Move out of my way!” Daisy pushed them aside, and went to her bag, ensuring the ring was still inside. Fortunately, it was still there, still safe. She stood up, walking back to the front of the wagon, the floorboards creaking beneath her. “Don’t either one of you slimy varmints move from this spot. When I come back, we’ll discuss this properly.”