The Goose_The Sixth Day

by Peggy L Henderson

  Lifting Daniel into her arms, she carried the protesting gander out the door. Pearl had told her about the Cayuga River, which flowed through sections of town at both ends, and that there were areas along the river that weren’t frozen. At least, they hadn’t been before the blizzard. The weather had calmed down today, and it had stopped snowing. The river would be the perfect place for Daniel to get some exercise.

  Since no one else was around, Molly left the building through the back door leading from the kitchen. She glanced toward the street, then to the back of the establishment where several shabby-looking smaller structures stood in a row. No doubt those were the cribs, where the less-fortunate whores worked.

  Molly shuddered, and a chill raced up her spine. She’d met women who’d been forced into those kinds of conditions due to life’s unfortunate circumstances. They were no better off than the camp followers – women who went from one mining town to another to drum up business with the lonely miners. She glanced at the nice building that was the La Maison des Chat. At least the whores who worked in that establishment had it slightly better.

  Gray swirls of her breath rose in front of her face as she headed up the street. The river was a short distance up the road, judging from the bridge. Daniel squirmed in Molly’s arms, no doubt sensing that he was about to be granted some freedom. He managed to get one of his wings free from her grip, and started flapping and honking.

  “Hold still, Daniel,” Molly chided, gripping the goose with all her strength. The gander was getting too heavy and strong, especially when he had a wing free.

  With feathers flapping in her face, Molly stumbled over something in the road. In an effort to regain her balance, she lost complete hold of the goose. Daniel didn’t waste any time to take full advantage of his newfound freedom, and waddled down the road. His flapping wings kept him from sinking into the snow that hadn’t been compressed by wagons or hooves, and he honked happily. Trouble was, he was heading away from the river and toward the center of town.

  “Daniel,” Molly yelled, darting after the gander as fast as the footing allowed. The snow had turned to slush in some places, while in others it was as slick as ice. Several times, she nearly took a tumble in an effort to stay on her feet while chasing after the goose.

  Several men stared at her as she hurried up the main street of Noelle, chasing after her fleeing goose. Some men laughed. A couple of horses tied to a hitching rail shied and kicked up snow as the goose raced past.

  “Daniel, you come back here,” Molly yelled as the goose continued up the street.

  The gander scurried past Felicity Partridge, one of the brides and former traveling companion, who stood talking with Reverend Hammond by the land office. There was no time to contemplate why the two of them were standing so close together. The good reverend positioned himself in front of Felicity as if to protect her from Daniel’s flapping wings.

  The goose had no intention of stopping for either Felicity or the reverend, however, and ran up the road toward the livery. There was another bridge up ahead where the river flowed through that end of town. Hopefully Daniel sensed the water, and was heading toward it to go for a swim. The crazy bird had never run away from her before. At least he hadn’t taken flight.

  Two men rounded the corner of the livery at that moment, followed by a dog. Both stopped as Daniel approached. With a loud bark, the dog rushed toward the goose.

  “No,” Molly shouted, her eyes wide. The dog would surely kill Daniel. With renewed effort, she ran faster, unmindful of the slippery footing.

  Daniel flapped his wings, honking louder than ever, and stretched his neck. He collided with the dog, and the two wrestled amidst fur and feathers. Molly fumbled in her pocket for the knife she kept there, but her hands were too cold to make her fingers work properly. That dog was not going to harm her pet.

  The two men rushed forward, one of them cursing while the other grumbled something unintelligible. Molly skidded to a stop when her path was blocked by one of the men. He, too, wasn’t very steady on his feet. She flailed her arms, but couldn’t stop in time before she collided with him.

  The impact knocked the air from her lungs, and she let out a soft grunt. In danger of slipping on the icy ground, her hand clamped around the man’s arm while trying to maintain her balance. That had been a mistake. The collision had knocked him off balance as well, and together they fell to the ground, with Molly landing squarely on top of him.

  “I’m so sorry,” she stuttered, scrambling to get off the man.

  Her boots tangled in her skirts, while her cloak wrapped around her hands, making it impossible to get back on her feet.

  “Hold still, woman, and we might both be able to stand up,” the man growled.

  Molly froze, bracing her hands in the cold snow and looking down at the man who lay beneath her and had cushioned her fall. Her eyes widened. Her face was inches from the man she’d seen last night at the saloon, the one with the dark skin and raven hair. Her breath caught in her throat. An angry storm brewed in his startling gray eyes.

  Swirls of his breath mingled with hers. Their eyes locked. Neither one moved, as if time stood still. The yipping of a dog in pain and the loud honking of a goose broke the invisible chain. How long had they been immobile, staring at each other?

  The man cursed and rolled her off him, stood, and lifted her off the ground. His actions had been so quick that Molly had no chance to react until she was standing firmly on her feet.

  “Looks like Wolf finally met his match.”

  Molly glanced toward an old man standing a few paces away, holding one hand to his belly and laughing out loud. Her eyes followed his line of vision. The large, shaggy dog that indeed looked like a wolf, ran behind the livery. Chasing after him was Daniel, honking loudly and flapping his wings.

  “Daniel, come back here.” Molly cursed under her breath, and made a move to chase after the goose. A hand on her arm stopped her.

  “Leave them be. They’ll work it out.”

  She stared up at the man with the gray eyes. The anger hadn’t left his gaze as he set his hat that had fallen off back on his head.

  Molly shook her head, pulling free of his grip. “That dog could kill him.”

  The old man chortled in amusement next to them. “Looks like that goose is showing old Wolf who’s boss. He should know better than to mess with an angry gander.” He took a step forward, and held out his hand, and cleared his throat.

  “Miss Norris, I assume. I’m Ezra Thornton.”

  Molly stared. Thornton? Her eyes darted to the other man, then back to Ezra. She raised her hand to accept his handshake.

  “That’s my grandson, Storm.” He nudged his chin to the younger man who hadn’t made a move to introduce himself.

  Molly blinked, then swallowed. That man was Storm Thornton, her intended husband? Her heart started beating faster in her chest. She stood straighter and raised her chin as annoyance overruled her instant attraction to the man.

  “Mr. Thornton. I saw you yesterday at the saloon when we arrived. Why didn’t you introduce yourself then?”

  Storm Thornton glared at her. Molly’s own eyes didn’t flinch. He was definitely upset, but was she the reason? Was she not what he had expected? She forced her hand to remain at her side rather than touch the scar that ran from her eye down along her nose to her lip.

  Somewhere on the other side of the building, coming from the direction of the river, Daniel honked again. Molly tore her eyes away from her intended. Her goose had found the water, and was taking full advantage of it. The dog suddenly appeared next to his master. With his head low and ears down, the shaggy beast sat at Storm’s feet.

  “Storm was just about to head over to the . . . ah, establishment to meet you, Miss Norris,” Ezra cut in. “He wasn’t quite himself yesterday, and since you ladies were offered accommodations for the night, he thought it best to wait until today.” Ezra rubbed his hand along his unshaven chin. “In fact, he was going ta suggest that you a
nd your feathered friend come out ta the ranch with us. It would be better there than living in a . . . living at Madame Bonheur’s place, and it’ll give ya a chance ta get ta know each other before making a final decision on getting married.”

  Molly stared from the old man back to Storm. Something wasn’t quite right. Nothing about the way Storm looked at her or glared at his grandfather indicated that he was at all in agreement, or that he’d been the one to suggest she come to the ranch.

  A ranch would be a much better place for Daniel than being cooped up at the whorehouse. If Storm had asked the question himself, she would have eagerly said yes, despite the impropriety of going with him without getting married first. It didn’t matter.

  Propriety had never been important to Dani Jensen. Why should it matter now if Molly lived in her intended’s home before they were married? Like Ezra Thornton had said, it would be best for them to get to know one another first. Besides, if Ezra lived at the ranch, it was hardly improper. Between the old man and Daniel, she had plenty of chaperones.

  Molly looked directly at Storm. “Is that what you would suggest?”

  The muscles along his jaw twitched. He darted a quick look at his grandfather, then locked his gaze back on her.

  “I’d understand if you’d rather stay in town.”

  Molly blinked, or she might drown in his mesmerizing eyes. They’d lost some of their fierceness, and if he would smile, he’d be the most handsome man she’d ever seen. In his letter, he’d said he cared for animals. It was obvious in the way he stroked his dog’s head and how the canine glanced up at his master with loving eyes. Even though Storm Thornton didn’t look too happy at the moment, there was something about him that drew her in, and indicated he was trustworthy.

  “Do you have a pond at your ranch?”

  His brows rose and he leaned slightly forward as if he hadn’t understood.

  “There’s a stream that runs along the back of the cabin, and a pond a couple miles into the woods, but I don’t know what that has to do with –”

  “As long as you promise not to harm my goose, Daniel and I would be happy to move to the ranch with you.”

  Chapter 5

  The First Day of Christmas, December 25, 1876

  Storm rubbed his pounding temples, then resumed unhitching the team. He led the horses to their stalls, and tossed some hay into their mangers. With the prongs of the pitchfork, he stabbed at the sheet of ice that covered their water troughs until it cracked. With a final pat to the rump of one of the geldings, he left the barn.

  Wolf ran up to him, wagging his tail and whining. Storm glanced toward his cabin, which stood some twenty-five yards from the barn.

  “I don’t like it, either,” Storm grumbled, stopping to pet the dog’s head. He pulled off tufts of loose hair from the canine’s fur, all from areas where that nasty gander had bitten him earlier in town today. At least it didn’t appear that the fowl had broken any skin.

  “Good thing you’ve got a thick hide, and I sure hope you were able to at least pull out a few feathers.”

  Storm grinned, despite his sour mood and the nasty headache that still lingered from his drinking binge last night. Tangling with an angry gander was dangerous. Wolf should know better. The dog had been attacked plenty of times when he’d gotten too close to nests along the pond in spring.

  The fragrant scent of wood smoke drifted from the cabin’s chimney. The crisp air intensified the smell and promised a warm fire. Storm rubbed his hands together. Yesterday’s blizzard had passed, but it had left a lot of snow and the cold behind. He shook his head. He couldn’t avoid going to the house much longer. At some point, he had to talk to . . . her. What was he even going to say?

  Like a coward, he’d gone along with Kunu’s crazy idea of bringing Molly Norris out to the ranch. He hadn’t agreed with it, but keeping his mouth shut was as good as consent. He should have stopped the pretense that he was looking to marry her right then and there, and told her it had all been a misunderstanding. He could easily find someone else to marry her who hadn’t drawn a lucky straw.

  Then why had he stood there, gawking at the woman like some lovesick schoolboy? Words had failed him, and before he knew it, Molly had been sitting silently between him and Kunu as he drove the team out of town.

  Storm shook his head. After sleeping off most of the alcohol from last night, he’d gone to the livery, ready to hitch up, head home, and leave behind all thoughts of the woman whose images had plagued him in his sleep all night. Kunu had been right on his heels, trying to talk him out of it.

  “Ya can’t leave without talking to her first,” Kunu had argued. “That gal is expecting ya ta marry her, and if yore so dead set against that, at least be man enough to tell her to her face.”

  Storm had glared at his grandfather. His foul mood was spurred by a pounding headache and general feeling of having had a herd of horses run over him this morning. “This is all your doing, Kunu. You fix it.”

  He’d stomped through the snow to the livery with Kunu right beside him when that crazy gander had come charging down the main street of town and directly toward them. Before anyone could blink, the bird and Wolf had gotten tangled up in fur and feathers, and Storm was lying in the snow with Molly Norris on top of him.

  Molly Norris. The girl that had caught his eye at the saloon, despite her strange choice for a pet. She’d been the last thing on his mind before passing out the night before, and the first thing in his thoughts this morning, even with the pounding headache and feeling sicker than a dog.

  The woman had literally swept him off his feet! Her face had been inches from his, lying on top of him in the snow, and her dark eyes had looked directly into his. Of course, she’d looked mortified at their unexpected predicament, but her wide eyes had made her even more enticing than he’d remembered from the night before.

  He’d already dismissed his attraction to her, blaming it on the whiskey for addling his mind. Yet, when she’d fallen on top of him, all those strange feelings of attraction had come rushing back, more intense than they had been at the saloon. Her chestnut hair had tumbled down the sides of her face from beneath the heavy cloak she wore, some strands tickling his cheeks.

  At first, the long strands had concealed part of her face, but couldn’t hide her scar for very long. It wasn’t simply a scratch as he’d previously thought. It looked as if she’d been sliced with a knife from her eye to the top of her mouth. A sudden sense of shock mixed with protectiveness had come over him in that moment. Who would have done something like that? The scar looked fresh, raised, and slightly red, as if the injury hadn’t occurred more than a few months ago.

  When Kunu had invited the girl – on Storm’s behalf – to come and live at the ranch, Storm hadn’t been able to get a word out to argue against the idea. He’d silently hoped she wouldn’t agree to such an arrangement, while another part of him wished she would.

  It had quickly become evident that she wasn’t some mousy girl, eager to find a husband who would take care of her every need. Although her cheeks had turned rosy when she was lying on top of him, entangled in her skirts and cloak, and couldn’t get back on her feet by herself, she’d quickly gotten over her embarrassment and had stood boldly in front of him. She definitely had a mind of her own, and her only concern seemed to be for that goose, Daniel.

  Storm shook his head and scoffed while looking at his cabin. What kind of a name was Daniel? Especially for a goose. For Molly’s beast in particular. He glanced around. Where was that nasty gander? With any luck, it had flown off and joined the other geese at the pond. Unfortunately, that idea seemed out of the question. That critter was glued to Molly. No one was going to get near her with that feathered monster protecting her.

  When she’d led the way back to the cathouse to gather her belongings and inform the woman in charge of the brides that she was leaving to go to the ranch, the goose had followed her like an obedient dog. When Kunu came too close to Molly, he’d barely had time to
step aside and out of the gander’s reach. Storm had followed a safe distance behind, and Wolf had brought up the rear.

  “I’ll be fine, Mrs. Walters. I think it’s best if I go with my future husband to his ranch. It’ll be better there for Daniel than being cooped up here. Today proved it when he ran away from me. He’s never done that before.”

  Storm had quietly listened to the exchange between the two women while standing in the parlor of La Maison. The place seemed less like a whorehouse at that moment, especially with an angry gander waddling around, honking and flapping its wings at anyone who came within ten feet of Molly Norris.

  The woman, Mrs. Walters, had shot a stern look at Storm and at Ezra, then smiled warmly at Molly.

  “I suppose with a chaperone such as Daniel, you’ll be safe.”

  Molly had laughed. “Yes, ma’am.” She’d given the woman a quick hug. “I’m not concerned about my safety.” She’d tossed a glance over her shoulder, her eyes seeking out Storm, and smiled warmly. “I think I’ll be perfectly fine.”

  Mrs. Walters had smiled from Molly to Storm with a knowing look. “I know you will be fine. I hope it all works out in your favor.”

  At that moment, Storm had realized he was in some serious trouble. Why would Molly Norris look at him? His annoyance with his grandfather for charting the course of his future vanished slightly, but not completely.

  No matter that the woman made his pulse quicken, marriage was out of the question. Decent women usually reacted to him by staring, then giving him a wide berth, and whispering in outrage. He’d experienced it often enough in other towns when he’d delivered horses. Even Mrs. Walters had looked at him with uncertainty for a moment. He’d seen none of that in Molly’s eyes.

  Now that he was back home, the annoyance returned. He liked being alone, away from folks in town. He’d tried to fit in once before, and it hadn’t worked out. Men he’d thought of as his friends had betrayed him. Storm curled his fingers into fists.