Bride for Easton

by Cassie Hayes

  “What’s the rush?” Sinead asked.

  “I still need to unpack and see what I can do about making that sterile jail cell of a cabin into a home.”

  As she and Sinead turned away, Molly thought she caught a glimpse of worry in Miss Hazel’s eye. Or maybe Molly imagined that too.

  “Now Ezekiel, I don’t want to see you in here again for at least a week, got it?”

  Easton entered the station just as Matthew unlocked the cell in the back, the large iron keyring clanging on the bars as he turned it. Poor ol’ Ezekiel Chambers winced as the door screeched open and slapped his hands to his ears. He groaned in response. Easton sighed in pity as he settled himself behind his desk.

  He’d served at several posts over his career as a Mountie, and there always seemed to be one resident in town who excelled at drinking. He didn’t much care for the term ‘town drunk’, but others had been known to call them that. Zeke Chambers was theirs.

  “Do my best, sir,” Ezekiel mumbled as he brushed past Matthew. He staggered a little before catching himself on the edge of Easton’s desk, where he paused to gather his bearings — or what was left of them.

  “Rough night, eh Zeke?” Easton asked, leaning back in his chair to distance himself from the foul odors wafting off their guest.

  Ezekiel leveled a cold, unamused glare at him. “You could say that, cap’n.”

  “Commander. How many times do I have to tell you that, Zeke?”

  Ezekiel shrugged and somehow managed to pull himself upright. No small feat, considering the state Nathaniel and Samuel reported the man to be in when they hauled him in to sleep it off. Again.

  Matthew opened the door for Ezekiel, no doubt as a hint for him to finally leave, but also to air out the place. Easton felt Matthew’s eyes on him and gave him a questioning glance.

  “You sure seem to be in a good mood, boss,” Matthew said, squinting at Easton with suspicion.

  Easton shifted in his seat, but Ezekiel saved him with his smart mouth.“How can you tell that? He looks just as sour as ever.”

  Sour? Easton had no idea he looked sour. Professional, yes. Sour, no.

  “Easy,” Matthew explained, plopping into his chair and grinning. “He forgot to straighten his desk.”

  Ezekiel and Easton turned their gazes to the desk before them. Zeke probably didn’t notice the inkwell in the wrong spot or the way his desk blotter sat slightly askew, but Easton did. Now he did. How had he missed it all? Matthew chuckled when Easton moved the inkwell to its proper place.

  “Enough of that, now,” Easton grumbled, shooting his constable a dark look.

  Ezekiel yawned loudly and followed it up with a belch. “Well, better go see what Sam’s serving up this morning.”

  Matthew called after him as the man stumbled out the door. “One week, Zeke! Y’hear?”

  Ezekiel flapped a hand noncommittally as he disappeared.

  “I need to say thanks,” Matthew said after the stench followed Ezekiel out the door.

  “For what?” Easton asked as he made sure everything on his desk was in the proper position.

  “For agreeing to take a wife, even though you didn’t really want one.”

  Easton couldn’t have been more surprised if Matthew had punched him in the nose. His friend wasn’t wrong, but he thought he’d hidden his uncertainty about the plan for them all to marry strange women quite well. Apparently not.

  “You knew?”

  Matthew smiled. “I work with you all day, every day, Easton. I know you better than you think. Probably better than you know yourself.”

  Easton frowned at that, wondering how that could even be possible, but then the warmth of friendship enveloped him. It wasn’t an entirely comfortable sensation for Easton. He’d jumped around from post to post, barely staying at any of them long enough to remember his co-workers’ names, much less develop deep friendships with any of them. He’d been at Cougar Springs longer than usual, though, and he’d grown closer to his men than he’d ever thought possible.

  “Oh yeah?” he shot back at Matthew. “What am I thinking right now?”

  Matthew squinted, as if he was concentrating hard, then his eyes snapped open and he gasped in mock shock. “Why, Easton Cooper! How dare you think such rude things!”

  Matthew’s laughter filled the room and, as usual, left Easton feeling like he had found a home. Even his commanding officer back in Regina had noticed, and not-so-subtly implied Cougar Springs could be Easton’s permanent posting, if he wanted. He hadn’t given it much thought before, but he suddenly realized he must have wanted that all along or he wouldn’t have sent away for a bride.

  “So, is your wife everything you thought she’d be?” he asked Matthew.

  “And then some,” Matthew said with a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Did you know she’s a doctor?”

  “And that’s a problem because…” Easton had been thrilled to learn Molly was a midwife, and he liked the idea of a real doctor residing in Cougar Springs. He didn’t trust that slimy Dr. Jenkins, the so-called doctor who ran the Institute.

  “It’s not a problem, I just…wasn’t expecting it. As you can imagine, she has a mind of her own, and I swear she’s going to be the death of me. Or herself.”

  Easton winked. “Match made in heaven, you ask me.”

  Matthew scowled at him from across the room, then lifted an eyebrow. “And what about you? Has your lovely new bride made a mess of your life yet?”

  Easton gave him a smug smirk. “Impossible. She only brought one small case, barely big enough to hold a dress. No, sorry to disappoint you.”

  Matthew snorted. “We’ll see about that. She’s barely been here a day.”

  “She won’t have time, if she gets that job she was talking about.”

  “Job? As a midwife? Is there room enough for two midwives in Cougar Springs, or is she planning to put old Stella out of job?”

  Easton shook his head. “No, as a maid. She took one look around my place and immediately wondered what she’d do all day. When she brought up working at the hotel, I was all for it.”

  “Really? You want her working for Jenkins?”

  Guilt chewed at him for allowing his wife to work for such a viper. “No, but she won’t be working directly under him,” Easton reasoned. “I’m sure the manager, Mr. Jackson, will be her immediate superior.” What he didn’t add was that he rather liked the idea of them living more independently from each other than was expected of a married couple. Maybe marriage wouldn’t be so disruptive to his carefully ordered life after all.

  Matthew opened his mouth to say something when a woman stomped through the open door. A very pregnant woman who was breathing hard and looked redder than a beet. Easton jumped to his feet and rushed to her side.

  “May I help you to a chair, ma’am?”

  The woman huffed her agreement and took a moment to collect herself before launching into her reason for coming. Easton wondered if she might be in labor, judging by her heavy breathing, but she calmed herself after a few moments and the cup of water Matthew offered her.

  “Thank you,” she said, laying a pair of white gloves in her lap. “I came to file a report against a thief.”

  Easton nodded at Matthew to take notes while he questioned the woman. Silent communication was just one more benefit of becoming close to one’s co-workers.

  “What did you have stolen, Mrs…?”

  “Mrs. Constance Hildebrand,” she answered tartly. “And this is what was stolen.”

  She flapped a solitary glove in Easton’s face. He took it because that seemed to be what she wanted, and he marveled at its softness. Cashmere, if he wasn’t mistaken. Handing it back, he moved his chair around in front of her.

  “Tell me what happened, Mrs. Hildebrand.”

  “I was out for my daily walk, as Dr. Jenkins prescribed— You know Dr. Jenkins, don’t you?” She flicked her head back with a sniff. “He’s my personal physician.”

  Easton avoided glancing at Ma
tthew, not that he needed to. Neither considered Jenkins much of a doctor.

  “Go on,” he urged.

  “I was out for my walk, my gloves firmly clasped in my hands, when I suddenly realized one was missing. They were a gift from my husband, you see, so I’m very careful about keeping track of them.”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “I turned around to look for it, thinking I must have dropped it, when I saw this ragamuffin of a girl fondling my glove!”

  Easton’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “So you dropped your glove, and a child picked it up?”

  The woman huffed so loudly it was almost a shout. “No! She wasn’t a child! She was a full grown woman, and a thief to boot. She must have snatched the glove from me as we passed. I knew there was no way I could have dropped it!”

  “So…this woman, she was trying to get your other glove and that’s how you noticed what had happened?”

  This time Mrs. Constance Hildebrand threw her hands in the air. “No! Are you not listening to me? She was just standing there, fondling my glove!”

  Easton could no longer resist casting a dubious glance at Matthew, who looked just as confused as Easton felt.

  “How did you get the glove back, if I might ask?”

  “I took it from her, of course!”

  Easton rubbed his brow, trying to make sense of her story. “So what you’re telling me is that while you were walking down the sidewalk, you noticed one of your gloves was gone, then you turned around and saw a woman standing behind you with the glove in her hand?”

  Mrs. Hildebrand gave him a curt nod. “That’s right. She stole it and I took it back, and I want to press charges, Commander!”

  “But you got the glove back,” Matthew interjected. At the mother-to-be’s withering glance, he clammed up.

  “Can you tell me what this woman looked like?”

  “Yes, she was smallish, with bright red hair and colorless eyes. She wore a reddish shawl around her shoulders. A thief if I ever saw one.”

  Color rose in Easton’s face. “I believe you’re talking about my wife, Mrs. Hildebrand,” he said so quietly he barely heard himself speak

  Her previously defiant eyes flashed with alarm. “Oh! Well, I…” Faster than he thought possible, she launched her bulk from the chair and hurried to the door. “I didn’t mean to insult your wife, Commander, but you really should keep better control of her.”

  Before the hem of her dress swept out of sight, Easton was on his feet, heading for home. He needed to get to the bottom of this, and only Molly could tell him what really happened. He didn’t believe for a minute she stole the woman’s glove, but it wouldn’t do for rumors to start that the commander’s wife was a thief.

  Throwing the door of their cabin open, Easton stopped cold and looked around his home in disbelief. His table and chairs, which he’d carefully located directly opposite the fireplace against the wall, now stood in the middle of the room and at a cockeyed angle. A tin cup brimming with scruffy pale flowers — no doubt riddled with insects and dirt — sat atop the table, just off center and nestled far too close to a lit candle.

  Tiny knickknacks he’d never seen before littered almost every flat surface in the cabin, and he couldn’t help wondering how she’d managed to fit all that junk into one small bag. Draped over two unevenly pounded nails hung Molly’s prized shawl. The woman herself grinned over her shoulder at him as she hung a freshly cut bough of pine over the mantel.

  A twitch started in Easton’s right eye, then moved down to his cheek. His home…she’d ruined it! He tried to find words to express himself, but they eluded him. He finally spit out the only words that came to mind.

  “Enough of that, now!”

  Chapter 4

  Molly had spent the better part of the afternoon doing what she could to spruce up the stark cabin. Aside from moving the table and chairs closer to the fire so she wouldn’t freeze to death during meals, she wasn’t able to do much with what she had. Some late-blooming purple asters, which had somehow managed to escape Rocky the Reindeer’s foraging, brightened up the room a touch, but the chipped and rusted tin can she found to hold them was only slightly better than nothing.

  She’d practiced poverty as a novice in the convent — which hadn’t taken much practice since she’d grown up poorer than dirt — so she owned very little in the way of personal effects. Her shawl, of course, but each of her brothers and sisters had given her a small, handmade going-away present on the eve of her departure. Most people in Cougar Springs would look at the trinkets and see garbage, but they were priceless to Molly. She was proud to decorate her new home with them.

  A hearty stew simmered on the stove for dinner, and Molly thought the candle on the table would be a nice touch for when Easton came home, but the walls needed…something. With no paintings or family photographs to hang, Molly had again worked with what she had: her beautiful scarf and a cutting from a fragrant pine tree just outside their door. It wasn’t much, but she’d transformed the sparse cabin into a cozy home that made her heart swell with joy and satisfaction.

  Then Easton came home.

  Molly’s happy grin faltered when she saw red flooding into Easton’s face as he stood in the doorway, glowering. His eyes grew round as he scanned the room, then his mouth started popping open and closed like a fish on a riverbank. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t words of praise for her handiwork — as she’d expected — and his tone sounded less than pleased.

  “What?” She couldn’t have heard him right. He had to have said something other than—

  “Enough of that, now,” he growled, his voice growing louder. He stepped inside and slammed the door behind him.

  Molly jumped at the noise, utterly confused. He actually seemed angry…with her! “What’s wrong?”

  Easton’s lips pressed into a hard line. “I didn’t give you permission to change anything in my home.”

  Molly flicked her gaze around at the minor changes she’d made. Her confusion was replaced with a more familiar, and infinitely more unsavory, emotion. “Excuse me? What did you just say to me?”

  The spark caught in her chest, and the flames of anger skittered up her neck like wildfire. As soon as it reached her mouth, Molly knew from experience, all bets would be off. She’d hoped to hide her volatile temper from her groom for a little while longer, but this attack hit her doubly hard since it was so unexpected and unwarranted.

  “Didn’t you understand my instructions?” Easton demanded, jamming his fists onto his hips. Standing there in his Mountie uniform, he once again looked as if he stepped out of a recruitment poster — only his attitude was less than impeccable.

  Molly clenched her teeth and balled up her fists to ward off her bad side. “What instructions?” she asked through pursed lips.

  “Yesterday, on our way here. I told you I liked my place just the way it was, and to not do anything to change that.”

  The fire finally reached Molly’s eyes, turning the world red, and her full fury poured forth. “You mean on our way here after our wedding? What I remember is you saying that you liked to keep our house clean, and you could eat off these floors, Mr. Mountie Man!”

  Easton blinked at the words she spat at him, and a small, quiet part of her wished she could stop, but now that she was consumed by the inferno…

  “Are you really that upset I moved the table?” she demanded, advancing on him. It probably looked quite comical, a tiny woman glaring up at a very large man, but it didn’t seem the least bit funny to Molly.

  “I-I…liked it where it was,” he muttered lamely.

  “Well, I like it here!” She felt her nostrils flaring like a winded horse, but stood her ground.

  “What about all this other nonsense?” He waved a hand around the room as he clearly tried to hold on to his indignation for as long as possible. The poor man had no idea who he was up against.

  “Nonsense? Nonsense!”

  Molly stomped over to the mantel and picked up a s
mall snowman painstakingly sculpted from flour paste. Even in her anger, she handled the delicate trinket carefully.

  “This nonsense was made for me by my sister, Sarah. She’s seven.” She set down the snowman and picked up a pinecone with a merry hat and twigs glued on for arms. “And this bit of nonsense is the genius of my little brother, Aiden. That nonsense is from another of my brothers, and that little thing is from another sister. I’d hoped one day you’d get to meet them all, but if this is how you think of the gifts they gave to me the last time I saw them, maybe I don’t want you meeting them after all.”

  Easton stood stock still, mouth hanging open. Molly glared at him until he looked away and found his voice. “I just like things a certain way, is all,” he mumbled to the floor.

  “Has it ever occurred to you that I do too? This is my home as well, Easton Cooper, and I want it to feel like home, not a Siberian prison cell! If you don’t like that, maybe you should just leave!”

  The tension between them dragged out for about a decade, then Easton spun on his black boot heel and slammed out of the door without a word, or even a look back.

  Molly stared at the door for a moment, the fire burning inside extinguished by the puff of cool air Easton’s sudden departure let in. Dropping into one of the contested chairs, she stared into the fireplace and wondered what she’d just done. She had promised Mother Superior to take a deep breath and pray before losing her temper, but that was hard to remember when she could barely think straight.

  All sense of time evaporated, so Molly had no idea how long she’d sat there before a knock sounded on the door. Leaping for the door, she wrenched it open.

  “Easton, I—“

  Miss Hazel stood before her. Her smile fell away, replaced by a worried frown. “Is everything okay, Molly?”

  Molly glanced behind Miss Hazel, hoping to see Easton skulking about, but she only saw Rocky swaying down the street in the distance.

  “No…I mean, yes. Fine. Come in.”