by Kit Morgan
Lula took one and began to nibble, her eyes wandering over her surroundings. “Thank you.”
He smiled. “Eleanora baked those. I love sugar cookies.”
Lula eyed the one in her hand. “Oh.”
Baxter did his best not to frown. What sort of response was that? “I can show you the barn later.”
She looked up at him. “All right,” she said.
He realized he was still standing and sat in the chair next to hers with a frustrated sigh. “I can tell something’s wrong.” He sighed again. “How can I make it right?”
She looked helpless, then shut her eyes tight, and for a moment he thought she might cry. “You might as well know.”
Baxter’s eyes opened wider. “Know what?” he said cautiously.
She opened one eye. “I can’t cook.”
He stared at her a moment, glanced at his mother who was pouring herself a cup of coffee, then at Lula again. “Oh?”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t learn,” his mother commented from the stove. She poured another cup, presumably for his father. “I had to when I got here.” She disappeared into their bedroom, a cup in each hand.
Lula gasped. “Really?”
Baxter saw her crimson cheeks. “Really. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Maybe we can learn to make a few things together?”
“Oh, Baxter,” she said with a relieved smile.
“After all,” he said with a shrug, “part of our vows’ll say something about ‘in sickness and in health.’ That means that if you’re sick, I’ll have to do the cooking, and Lord knows what I make will do to you. Might finish you off.”
She laughed.
Good. “So a few lessons for me won’t hurt,” he added.
She wiped at her eyes. “What makes me feel so terrible, you turn around and make it a good.”
He studied her face, her hair. She wore her heart on her sleeve. All he had to do was pay attention, and he could know her well in short order. She was a tender, delicate thing suffering from a huge heap of rejection right now, having been cruelly hurt by those she loved – she, her sisters and cousins. He hoped he’d meet this Fanny one day, if only to give the woman a piece of his mind. Then he’d have a word with Lula’s father …
“These are very good.” She reached for another cookie.
He shook off thoughts of vengeance and forced a smile. “Grab a few and let’s take a walk.”
“But your ankle …”
“… is pretty close to fine. Don’t worry, it’ll hold up.”
She shrugged, took two cookies from the plate and got up from the table. Baxter did the same, grabbed his hat and led her outside. He crossed the barnyard, pointing out the smokehouse, the root cellar and the chicken coop. “You can help Eleanora gather eggs in the morning.”
Lula stared at the chickens with a horrified expression. “Me?”
Baxter smiled. “Don’t worry, sweetie, you won’t scare them too much.”
She shuddered even as she smiled. “Now there’s a thought.”
He put an arm around her to comfort her. “I’ll teach you.” He turned her to face him. “Lula, I’m glad you told us about your sisters, where you’re from, how you lived.”
“I didn’t tell you how I lived …”
“Not specifics, but we’re not ignorant around here – we can figure it out.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“No offense taken. What I’m trying to say is, it’s okay if you don’t know anything about living in a place like this.”
“It is?”
He nodded. “Of course. Knowing what I know now, it don’t come as a surprise. Besides, it’s as Ma said – she didn’t know anything when she got here. Whatever you don’t know you can learn, and there are plenty of folks around who can teach you, just like they taught her. You don’t have to depend on just Ma and my sister.”
Lula wrapped her arms around herself. “I was so worried … I’m sorry. It’s just that I feel so … out of place.”
“Like a fish out of water?”
“Yes, exactly.” She looked into his eyes. “You’re not disappointed?”
“Of course not.” He took a deep breath. “Are you?”
“No. You were worried that I would be?”
Baxter sighed in relief. “Yeah, I was.”
She turned away, tossed her arms out to either side of her and laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
She spun around. “All this time I’ve been agonizing over how completely ill-equipped I am to be your wife, how I came out of this terrible scandal, how you might not want anything to do with me – and you were worried I’d reject you?” She almost doubled over in laughter.
His shoulders shook with amusement. “Well, I sure wouldn’t fit into your neighborhood in New York. Does that bother you?”
She shook her head. “No. Not anymore.”
“But it did at first?” he asked, feeling a twinge of disappointment. The last thing he wanted was for her to think of him as a poor country hick.
She hung her head. “I’m ashamed to say it, but yes, a little.” She looked at him. “That was snobbish, I know.”
He took her hand and pulled her to him. “Lula, we’re two very different people because of our backgrounds and where we come from. But that doesn’t mean we can’t …” His eyes roamed her face, settling on her lips. “… can’t fall in love.”
“Love?” she whispered, as if she didn’t dare hope for it.
“Of course. Don’t you want to fall in love?” Her jaw tightened, and he could tell she hadn’t hoped for such a thing. “Because I want to,” he said softly, tucking a finger under her chin and gently rubbing his thumb along her jawline. “And from what I can tell, I could easily fall in love with you.”
She trembled in his hands. “Baxter …”
He didn’t ask, didn’t need to. The tears in her eyes were permission enough. He wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her close and let his lips fall on hers.
It was hard for him to keep it gentle. In that moment, he felt as if he could consume her, and would have if by doing so he could take all her burdens upon himself, shouldering them so she wouldn’t have to. But one kiss wasn’t going to manage that. He needed to work out this business about her sister, not to mention the business of marrying. Then he could comfort his bride with as many kisses as humanly possible.
The thought thrilled him, and he had to force himself to break the kiss. Besides, they were standing behind the house in clear view of his parents’ bedroom window. Maybe neither of them were looking, but maybe they were …
“Baxter,” she whispered as his face lifted from hers.
He smiled. “Yes?”
She met his gaze, her mouth half-open but unable to speak. That might have been her first kiss – he was no expert, but his father and uncles had taught him enough about women for him to guess. “Lula?” he whispered. “We’re going to find your sister.”
She nodded, eyes still locked on his.
He kissed her on the cheek. “But first, honey, I wanna marry you. I think maybe sooner than later.”
She nodded again.
Baxter smiled. “I don’t dare take you into the barn. Maybe we’d better sit on the porch for a spell.”
“Okay,” she squeaked, managing another nod.
He tried not to laugh. “Can you talk yet?”
She smiled in amusement and shook her head.
Baxter’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. Had he really kissed her senseless? He took her by the hand and led her back to the front of the house. “Sit down, honey,” he instructed, gently easing her into one of the rocking chairs. He picked up the other one and set it down next to hers.
Lula stared at him in awe. “That was … wonderful …”
He smiled. “It was, wasn’t it? You’ll be happy to know there’s lots more where that came from.” He leaned toward her. “But we need to get married first, sweetie.” He ga
ve her another quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll go fetch Ma. Let’s get this all set up.”
*
Several days and uncountable stolen kisses later, Lula was standing just outside the front steps of the church next to Wilfred Dunnigan. “Well, Miss Stout, are ya ready?”
Lula swallowed hard. The last three days had been a whirlwind of activity. Mrs. Adams – make that Ma – had taken in her own wedding dress so Lula could wear it. It was stunning, and she couldn’t be happier. Neither could her new aunts and in-laws, all of whom were in attendance. In fact, most of the town had turned out for the ceremony, something she hadn’t expected at all. But this was Clear Creek, and she was quickly learning that things here were done differently.
Everything about Clear Creek was different than she was used to, and not just the expected differences between the thriving metropolis of New York and a small far western country town. Its people were an oddly diverse mix of individuals with … dare she say, a sprinkling of the divine? But there was no other way to put it after listening to her new family’s stories of the Cookes, the Drakes, the Bergs (she was still trying to wrap her head around a blacksmith becoming prince consort) and various others.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Dunnigan,” she finally said. “I was thinking.”
“I could tell. Understandable, considering the search for your sister and all. But don’t worry, we’ll help ya find her.”
Lula smiled. It seemed there wasn’t a person in Clear Creek that didn’t know about her search for Effie – and they all wanted to help. Once she found her, she’d search for Minnie. Then they could at least stay in touch, if not actually visit each other.
She looked into the crowded church and glimpsed Baxter at the end of the aisle in dark pants and jacket – not a top hat and frock coat, but very respectable. She turned and gazed at the town, charming with an air of mystery about it she was coming to like. Of all the places in the country she could have wound up, she was glad it was here. Here she was accepted not only by her betrothed, a man she’d never laid eyes on until days before, but an entire community, something unheard of back home. In New York society, a new person had to be vetted, scrutinized, prove themselves good enough to be there.
Here it was a simple matter of being oneself and accepting others as they were. Yes, the good people of Clear Creek had their flaws, and many had no problem telling her what they were and what they went through to overcome them. That impressed her the most, and made her realize she was just like them – no better and no worse.
Baxter had worried he wasn’t good enough for her, while she worried the same about him – to the point of believing the other would bolt before getting this far. Now here she was, about to walk down the aisle to him on the arm of Wilfred Dunnigan, Clear Creek’s self-appointed escort of fatherless brides. In New York, people would think he was deranged. Here, it was a role to fill for a town that did more than the usual share of taking in the odd, the friendless, the out of place, and giving them a home.
Music drifted out of the church, yanking Lula from her thoughts. This was it!
“Ready?” Wilfred said happily.
She took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Good.” He held out his arm.
Lula took it. “Here we go.”
Wilfred smiled gently. “Ya don’t have to be nervous. Baxter’s a good man.”
“I know. It’s just that he seems so much better than I …” She gulped. “… than I deserve.”
“I don’t buy that, and neither will Baxter. I don’t know what kind of folk ya have back east, but after hearing yer story, little lady, I think yer selling yourself short.”
She took a deep breath. “I’m glad I came here, Mr. Dunnigan. I’m blessed to be here.”
“Ya know what I think?” he asked with a bemused eyebrow. “I think ya were meant to come here. Now let’s see about making sure ya stay here.”
No sooner than he said it than the wedding march began to play. For better or for worse, Lula was about to be married. Then the real work would begin.
Chapter 12
Lula hadn’t spent much time with Preacher Jo and his wife Annie, but what little she had before today helped her see things she hadn’t noticed before. Including how small her world had been. After listening to their story and how love saved the day, she could safely say her life had been incredibly sheltered.
Until recently, she’d never spent more than a few hours at a time outside of a ten-block radius in one corner of Manhattan. She’d rarely ventured out of the cage Fanny had built around her, and had been envious of her sisters, who were allowed a looser rein. But now she was free. Free to make her own decisions, to love the man beside her without reservation.
She saw she’d passed judgment on Baxter and Clear Creek before even setting foot there. She’d prepared herself for disappointment, and would have wallowed in it if she could. But pity made a poor houseguest, and it had derailed her plans to find Effie. But now she felt like she was on the proper track. To stay on it, though, she’d need help. And she was learning to ask for it. If she hadn’t asked for it when she did, she might not be standing next to Baxter and hearing Preacher Jo recite the vows.
“… And will you, Baxter Solomon Adams, have this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health and forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”
Lula’s body warmed at the look Baxter was giving her. He was taking Preacher Jo’s words to heart. She’d attended weddings before, but none of the grooms had looked at their brides the way he was looking at her now.
Baxter squeezed her hands. “I do.”
Lula took a breath. Oh no, she would not cry, she would not cry, she … oh bollocks, who was she kidding? She let the tears flow down her cheeks.
Baxter pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her.
She heard a muffled sob from the first pew as she wiped her eyes. She hoped Mr. Adams had a hankie for Mrs. Adams, but when she looked, it was Baxter’s mother handing one to his father! Quite a few were tearing up in the pews, and it was all she could do to say her part. How could Baxter remain so calm, so solid, strong and confident? And all while speaking his vows. She’d never met anyone like him in her old world, where power and money were the order of the day and marrying into it the primary goal.
But things weren’t like that in Clear Creek. Here, there were more important things to gain through marriage. And from the looks of it, she was gaining a lot.
“I, Lula May Stout, take you, Baxter Solomon Adams, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward …” Lula said, her voice cracking. “For … for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.” She stopped, sniffed and had to use the handkerchief again – just in time to catch a glimpse of Wilfred blowing his nose, his eyes red from crying. The sight made her smile.
She faced Baxter again, swallowed hard, and the rest of the words came without interruption. Before she knew it, Preacher Jo gave them both a big smile. “By the power vested in me by the great state of Oregon, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Baxter, you may …”
Baxter didn’t let him finish before he pulled Lula into his arms. The kiss was so consuming that Lula heard voices and cheers around them, but couldn’t make out a single word. In the back of her mind, she wondered if Baxter’s father was still crying.
“Open your eyes, Lula – look at me,” Baxter mumbled, his lips still against hers.
She shuddered when he moved away, looked into his eyes and her knees went weak.
“Whoa there, sweetie, don’t faint on me now,” he said, then smiled. “I guess I’m gonna have to watch those kisses from now on.”
“Don’t,” she gasped, vaguely aware of the people in the church still cheering and clapping.
His eyes roamed her face as he took her by the arms and pulled her close once more. “I’m gonna try to be the
best husband there is, Lula. I promise.”
“Thank you, I know you will,” she said against his chest. Had he heard her? “I’ll try my best to be a good wife. But I’ll need a lot of help.”
“Help?” he gently parted them. “You don’t need any help to fall in love with me, do you?”
“Oh, Baxter,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Of course not.”
“Then what do you have to worry about? Cooking, cleaning – all of that’s secondary to loving each other.”
Preacher Jo coughed into his hand. “If the two of you don’t walk down that aisle, I think Wilfred is going to get it in his head to drag you out of here.”
Baxter and Lula looked at the gathering of his family and townsfolk looking expectantly at the newly married couple. “C’mon, son, your wedding supper’s getting cold!” his father cried, then blew his nose.
Baxter laughed, gave Lula a big hug, then offered her his arm. She took it and together they went down the aisle to more cheers and congratulations.
Once outside, Lula felt another pang of worry - not about whether she’d make a good wife, but about finding Effie and Minnie. Despite Effie being somewhere in Oregon, what if they couldn’t track her down? Or either of them, or her cousins? Could she go through life knowing she might never see them again? Worse, would she ever be able to forgive Fanny and her father for sending them away?
Baxter led her to a wagon festooned with flowers. She’d never expected to wear a beautiful wedding dress, let alone be carted to a wedding supper at the hotel in a decorated wagon. But the people of Clear Creek were generous, kind and loving, and had a lot of experience with mail-order brides. They’d done nothing but make her feel at home. How did she become so blessed? Did the good Lord bring her here because He knew she’d never see her family again?
“Are you ready for what comes next?” Baxter called over the sound of jangling harness.
“What do you mean, what’s next?” she asked.
“You’ll see!” he said with a grin as he put his arm around her and kissed her on the forehead.