The Convenient Bride Collection: 9 Romances Grow from Marriage Partnerships Formed Out of Necessity
Page 15
Anna studied Neelie. “I thought you said your sister was a—”
“A southern belle?” Neelie regretted the sarcasm the moment it slipped out. Why would Caleb have thought anything different of her? The sister he’d parted from wore embroidered gowns, her long hair swept up and held in place with pearled combs.
“Yes, my sister.” Caleb returned his attention to Neelie. “Things have obviously changed. A lot. For all of us.”
“For the better.” A warm smile brightened Anna’s eyes. “The more family, the happier.”
“Thank you, Anna.” Neelie turned to her brother. “To answer your question, Archie is dead.”
“I’m sorry.” Caleb and Anna spoke in unison.
“Thank you.” She wasn’t sorry her husband was out of her life, but the way he died still kept her awake some nights.
“That explains why you’re alone.” Caleb ground the toe of his boot into the loamy soil. “But not why you’re out here. You were with the folks in Nashville when I left for the war.”
“I stayed there for a while.” He didn’t need to know any of the details. They would soon go their separate ways and weren’t likely to cross paths again. Not if she wanted to protect her secrets.
“You’re just in time for supper. My grandfather is traveling with us, and it’s his night to cook.” Neelie’s newfound sister-in-law snatched her hand and pulled her toward a covered farm wagon.
Neelie surprised herself and allowed it. For a number of years now, no woman had bothered to give her the time of day. Unless it involved tittle-tattle whispers. To have another woman eager for her company was nice for a change.
Within thirty minutes, Neelie sat on a wood-slat chair with a tin plate balanced on her lap. Caleb and his wife shared a bench. Anna’s grandfather, Otto Goben, a beanpole of a man, perched on a stool. Neelie stabbed another crusty bite of meat and lifted the fork to her mouth. “What did you say this was?”
“Wiener Schnitzel. It’s a German favorite. We bread veal when pork isn’t available.”
“It’s quite good. Thank you.” Neelie drizzled honey on her second biscuit and bit into it. It wasn’t roots or rabbit, so the meal had a leg up right there. She scooped up another forkful of the potato salad.
“My Anna said your husband died.” The accent was thick, but the softness in Mr. Goben’s voice matched the tenderness in his gray-blue eyes. “My grandson—Anna’s brother—died in battle.” His shoulders slouching, he sighed. “The war claimed so many good men.”
Nearly choking on the potato salad, Neelie reached for her coffee cup. She’d thought Archie was a good man. That was why she’d married him. Nobody needed to know how he’d really died, or why. He might not have died during the war, but it changed him. Got him killed just the same.
Chatter drew Neelie’s attention to the front of the wagon as a horde of children rounded the tongue and stopped mere feet from her chair.
Angus led the pack. “I apologize for interruptin’ your meal, mem, but I been telling about you. About your gun and your shootin’ the rabbit with only one shot.”
Not about the stampede that one shot had caused?
“We wanted to meet you.” The comment came from a little girl no taller than the hub of a wagon wheel.
Angus rested his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “This here’s my baby sister, Maisie.”
“I’m almost four.” Maisie’s hair had more twists in it than a bean vine. She clutched a fabric bunny. “Can you really shoot as good as Angus says?”
Caleb cleared his throat and rose to his feet. “Children, my sister has had a busy day. Do you think you could save the introductions for another time?”
“Sure, Preacher. Sorry.” Angus turned to leave then looked over his shoulder at Neelie. “We’d surely like to see your shootin’ another day, mem.”
Preacher? Her brother was alive, married, and he was a preacher? “We’ll see.” Even if she had her own horse, putting on a show for the caravan no longer seemed appropriate with her brother—the preacher—in the mix. Doubtful he’d smile on gambling. Anyway, taking advantage of bumpkins wasn’t quite as safe when your own kin were in the crowd.
“Angus. Maisie. Duff.” The familiar voice drew Neelie’s attention to broad shoulders and intense eyes. “It’s suppertime.”
Mr. Kamden’s three children waved at her and rounded the Conestoga to the right, while the other children dispersed in various directions.
The Scotsman doffed his cap. “I apologize for the intrusion, Preacher. I don’t have enough eyes or legs to keep track of them all.” He glanced at the plate on Neelie’s lap. “I best go and see about serving my rabbit stew.” His mouth tipped in a grin.
“Figured it was payment for your trouble.” She wasn’t going to go hungry around Caleb and his family. “We’re straight then?”
“We are, mem.” Ian brushed the brim of his woolen cap. “Have a good evening, folks.”
After he walked away, Neelie busied herself with the last bites of veal and biscuit. A brother who was alive and well. A sister-in-law who was clearly shocked by her appearance but not repulsed. A widowed stranger who helped her to safety in a tree even when she’d been the one to put his life in danger. She was grateful for all of it. Rolling out of her bedroll that morning, she never would’ve imagined eating supper with Caleb that night. Sitting around the campfire was the best she’d felt in years.
But she doubted Caleb and Anna would welcome her so freely if they knew the truth. Neelie swallowed hard. She had her future to think about, that job with Buckskin Joe’s Wild West Show in San Francisco, and she couldn’t allow the reunion with her brother and any entanglements with his new family to stand in her way.
Chapter 4
Neelie hovered on the outside end of one of the rustic benches that lined the center of camp. Caleb stood in front of the mismatched congregation with his childhood Bible open.
It hadn’t been her idea to resume church attendance, but Anna wasn’t the only one who had dreamed of having a sister. Neelie had, too. That must be the reason she found it so difficult to tell her sister-in-law no. While under the influence of Anna’s breakfast cakes and bacon, Neelie had agreed to come to church.
Caleb cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to the service. “This morning,” he said, “I’m reading from First Samuel, chapter 25.
“And David arose, and went down to the wilderness of Paran. And there was a man in Maon, whose possessions were in Carmel; and the man was very great, and he had three thousand sheep, and a thousand goats: and he was shearing his sheep in Carmel. Now the name of the man was Nabal; and the name of his wife Abigail: and she was a woman of good understanding, and of a beautiful countenance: but the man was churlish and evil in his doings.…”
Neelie glanced up at a lone cloud in the blue sky. He could have been talking about Archie. Her husband had without doubt turned churlish after the war.
“But one of the young men told Abigail, Nabal’s wife, saying, Behold, David sent messengers out of the wilderness to salute our master; and he railed on them.…”
Neelie bit her lip. She couldn’t count how many times Archie had railed on her. On anyone in his path.
One time too many.
“Then Abigail made haste, and took two hundred loaves, and two bottles of wine, and five sheep ready dressed, and five measures of parched corn, and an hundred clusters of raisins, and two hundred cakes of figs, and laid them on asses.…”
Anna patted Neelie’s trousered knee. “I’m so thankful you’re here,” she whispered.
Caleb flipped a page in his Bible, crinkling the onionskin.
“And when Abigail saw David, she hasted, and lighted off the ass, and fell before David on her face, and bowed herself to the ground.…”
Neelie’s stomach churned. She’d done all she could to try to make Archie happy; to make him forget the atrocities of war.
“David said to Abigail, Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, which sent thee this
day to meet me.…”
She wasn’t like Abigail. Nothing she’d done trying to improve or spare her husband’s miserable life had made any difference.
Following the music, Caleb introduced Neelie—his wayward sister—to the entire congregation. He hadn’t called her such in so many words, but he’d described her appearance as unexpected. Judging by the widening of his eyes and the drop of his jaw when he’d finally recognized her, shocking would’ve been a more apt accounting. But no matter, the introduction was a mere formality. As soon as Mr. Kamden’s palomino rode into view and folks saw her sitting behind the recent widower, her presence among them had been widely known.
The children may have been bolder and more direct in their inquiry of her, but Neelie hadn’t failed to notice the clusters of adults who had casually passed by Caleb’s camp last night, their steps slowing while their gazes settled on her. Being a spectacle had served her well when her objective was to garner attention for her shooting exhibitions and illicit wagers on her abilities, but it had been a long while since she’d tried to mingle with churchgoing folks.
She drew in a deep breath and glanced at the front row. The wiry fellow she’d seen digging the latrine sat with the men Anna had pointed out as the other trail hands and the captain of the caravan. Neelie was doing her best to avoid the captain’s scrutiny, just in case he’d read Santa Fe newspapers, too.
Angus twisted around in the middle of the row in front of her. A tuft of brown hair stuck out over his forehead. He sat beside a taller girl. The younger brother she’d seen wearing the kerchief at his neck and another boy sat on either side of a well-dressed woman Neelie supposed was the children’s grandmother. Angus’s crooked smile caused a strange warming in her heart. She’d been surprised by how much the boy’s sympathy had meant to her.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had any dealings with children. She did, however, remember when she let go of the dream of having children of her own—the first time Archie slapped her. He’d knocked her to the ground, and she’d lost her unborn baby.
Neelie offered the boy the best smile she could muster, and he turned back around. Mr. Kamden had his arm draped across his youngest daughter’s back, her curly head leaning into his side. Maisie. What a charmer she was. The little one had the same spark Neelie had glimpsed in the father’s eyes when he asked her if she always drew a gun on someone who was trying to help her, and again when he mentioned having to get back to his camp to serve the rabbit stew. Despite her first impression, Ian Kamden was likable enough.
Looking away from the Kamden family, Neelie locked gazes with that of an older woman with her nose in the air. The woman’s eyelids fluttered and she jerked her head, nearly deposing her feathered hat. Her mouth moved like the flutter of a hummingbird’s wings at the ear of the younger woman seated beside her.
Lifting her chin, Neelie faced her brother. Good thing she was only planning to remain with the caravan until they reached Fort Laramie.
Maisie lifted her cheek from Ian’s arm. Rubbing her eyes, she smiled up at him then returned her sleepy head to his side. In that moment, it felt like all was right in his world. He could almost imagine Rhoda flanking his other side. He could nearly detect the hint of lavender that followed her.
Ian heard bits and pieces of Caleb’s sermon on Nabal, Abigail, and King David, but his heart seemed more intent on listening to the rhythm of Maisie’s sleep breathing. And his mind was set on other things.
The extra pillow from his bed.
The haggis Rhoda used to make for him. He craved it now, although he’d never had the heart to tell her it wasn’t his favorite dish.
His motherless children. They needed a woman’s touch, and it all seemed too much for Mither.
His thoughts also circled the woman seated at the end of the row behind him. A woman who wore trousers and a man’s shirt, both two sizes too big for her. He’d overheard bits of her conversation with Caleb and Anna, and he’d gotten the distinct impression she’d been raised as a lady in Nashville. What would sway such a woman to leave home and become a gun handler?
The devastation of war had proven to be a great stimulus for change for everyone. But hundreds of thousands of women had lived through the war and the loss of a father, brother, or husband and not totally changed their identity, the way they dressed and carried themselves.
Ian glanced to the left. On the other side of the road from camp, the Sand Hills of Nebraska rolled and peaked. The dunes paralleled much of their journeying these days, some as high as three hundred feet. Neelie was no less a phenomenon than those dunes.
Caleb strolled the aisle between the rows of benches. “Every time I read this story, I’m reminded of the truth that what we let take hold of our hearts influences what we do.”
What we let take hold of our hearts influences … Ian had heard that part of the sermon, loud and clear. Was he letting grief take hold of his heart? The loneliness? The overwhelming task of raising his children alone?
Neelie went through the motion of eating her smoked sausage and potatoes, but her mind wasn’t on the Sunday supper or on the family that surrounded her. Her thoughts returned to the night before, when Ian showed up looking for his children. He had indicated he was having trouble keeping track of them, and he’d said he’d cooked the rabbit. His mother apparently couldn’t cook. The poor man surely had his hands full.
She looked over at Caleb, who bit off a chunk of a crusty roll. This morning she’d seen a side of her brother that made her heart ache for what could have been. Had she known he was alive. Had she not joined Archie in New Mexico Territory and let him suck her into his shenanigans. Caleb’s topic made her wonder if he knew more about her than he’d let on, but his teaching had a peaceful quality to it. It didn’t seem the war had changed him the way it did Archie.
If things were different, she’d choose to spend more time with Caleb and Anna. Maybe even join them wherever it was they planned to settle out west. But things weren’t different, and her remaining with them too long wouldn’t be best for any of them. No, she needed to stick with her plan to go to San Francisco and make provision for parting ways with them at the next settlement or fort.
Neelie watched as Caleb took his last bite of smoked sausage, then cleared her throat to draw his attention. “Caleb, may I speak to you for a moment?”
He nodded and stood. “You wanna go for a walk?”
“I’d like that.” Although she couldn’t help but wonder if her chances for a favorable answer were greater if Anna were present.
Anna took the empty tin plate from Caleb, and he walked with Neelie on a footpath toward the river. When Neelie felt they were far enough from camp, she drew in a fortifying breath and turned to face her brother.
“I have a proposal. I appreciate all you and Anna are doing for me, but I can’t remain with you indefinitely.”
Caleb removed his hat and raked his hair. “You know you’re welcome.”
“Thank you, but—”
“We still have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Caleb, I can’t depend on you to support me. It’s not fair to you or to your wife.”
“Anna loves having you around.” He set his hat back on his head. “So do I.”
He wasn’t making it easy for her to protect him and his new family from her past. “I have a job lined up somewhere else. The buffalo spooked my horse, and everything that wasn’t on my person was lost when he ran off. I’d like to put on a shooting exhibition. I’d accept a set fee to watch the show. That would give me enough to buy a horse. I’m hoping someone here might have one they can spare. I need a few supplies, too. So for those who can’t come up with two bits, they can pay for the show with an extra cooking pot or spoon or something.” Anna had already given her a bedroll.
“No.”
“Like it or not, Caleb, shooting is what I do to make my living. And I’m real good at it.”
“If you still insist on leaving when we reach Fort Laramie,
I’ll help you with supplies there.”
“I told you.” She stopped, willing herself to soften her voice before continuing. “I have a job opportunity, and I can’t afford to dillydally. I need to be ready to ride when the time comes.” Especially if that time came sooner rather than later, should someone recognize her and threaten to reveal her secret.
“Neelie, these women here are trying to raise their children … their daughters to be—”
“Something I’m not.” She glanced from her gun belt to Archie’s worn boots on her feet. “You’re saying you can’t approve my exhibition, because you’re embarrassed by me. Ashamed of me because I’m not prim and proper like Anna.”
His shoulders squared, and she knew she’d gone too far by mentioning Anna. “You’ve been here one day. You have no idea what Anna is made of.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m saying no because it’s not a good idea for this group, and the captain would give you the same answer.” Caleb turned back toward camp and glanced over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”
“In a while.” One way or another, she had to leave them behind and make her own way. Given the choice, she’d rather do so with a horse and supplies than without. She’d just have to think of another way to get them.
Chapter 5
By the time Ian and Caleb reached the rise after hearing the gunshot, Neelie stood surrounded by a half-dozen children. Smiling, she gripped the brim of her sombrero and waved it in a flamboyant bow.
Duff clapped. “That was grand, Miss Neelie.”
“She’s faster than a bolt of lightning with that gun!” Nicolas Zanzucchi punctuated his statement with a low whistle.
“Ma’am,” Ian said, “I don’t appreciate your disregard for common sense. You have no business showing off your shooting skills in front of the children. And on a Sunday, no less.”
“Mr. Kamden, I hardly think cougars care whether it is the Lord’s Day or Tuesday when their stomachs take to growling.” A grin teased the corners of her mouth. “Do you?”