An Unexpected Widow (The Colorado Brides Series)

by Carré White

  As Frank handed me up into the wagon, I said, “What about the barn tomorrow? I thought you were helping the Williams?”

  He sat next to me, grasping the reins. “That’s been put off another week. I’m buying the lumber for the bunkhouse tomorrow. Looks like I’m finally in business.” He snapped the reins, shouting, “Yah!”

  “Oh, Frank. I can’t believe you hired strangers, especially that man. He’s a drunkard.”

  “He seemed perfectly sober to me.”

  “That’s because I stopped him before he went into the saloon.”

  “Yeah, about that, what are you women thinking? Why on earth would you be standing out there like that? You’ve had this planned for a while, haven’t you?”

  “It…was Rhoda’s idea.”

  He nodded. “She’s a firecracker, that one.”

  “Something has to be done about the drunkenness in town.”

  “Let the law handle that.”

  “There is no law here.”

  He sighed. “I’ll preach about moderation on Sunday. Will that make you happy, my dear?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I suppose.” Unease settled into my bones. Nothing good would come of having Nathan Weaver on our property. Nothing at all.

  “Now, you want to tell me what you were doing protesting outside the saloon?”

  “Not really.”

  “If you want to improve things in town, why don’t we work on establishing a charity? Once our farm is up and running, we’ll have plenty of food left over to sell and to give away to poor folks.”

  “We need to do something.” I glanced at the tents that spotted either side of the road. Miners lingered over cooking pots. “These men won’t stay here. They’ll leave as soon as the gold is exhausted.”

  “But plenty will set down roots. We’re going to stay. I think it’s beautiful here. The winter might be rough, but it’s not unlivable. We have heat and shelter, and there’ll be plenty of food, come the harvest. It won’t be long before they declare this place the Colorado Territory. Might even happen as soon as next year.”

  I glanced at him. “I didn’t really want to hand out those pamphlets. Sally and Adaline talked me into it.”

  “I knew you’d never come up with something like that on your own. Those women are bad influences.” He grinned, amusement etched into the lines on either side of his mouth. “My meek little wife has taken up with troublemakers. What is this world coming to?”

  “Oh, bosh. That’s not true.”

  “Now, I must speak to you about something important. What are you making for dinner?”

  “Fried chicken with potatoes and brown gravy.”

  “That sounds good. What’s for dessert?” He looked hopeful.

  “Lazy Cobbler.”

  He whistled through his teeth. “You’re forgiven, my dear.”

  I giggled, happy to be safely in my husband’s good graces again. But then I thought of Nathan Weaver and the conversation we had. My mood was contemplative the rest of the evening, while I spun magic in the kitchen, fixing supper, while humming the tune Sit By The Summer Sea. If only we had been able to bring our piano. It waited along with the rest of our things at my parent’s house, but I might never see them again.

  Frank was up early the next day, milking the cow while I prepared breakfast, which consisted of peanut butter griddle cakes and scrambled eggs. My larder was fully stocked, the shelves filled with flour, sugar, and preserves. Bags of rice and beans would see us through the next few months. We were fortunate to have had the funds to live in such extravagance; my husband’s inheritance had been useful in this regard. As I set the table, waiting for Frank, I thought about the impending arrival of the strangers he wanted to hire to work our land. This had weighed heavily on my mind all night, while I had tossed and turned, not being able to sleep.

  Once we had eaten, Frank left for town, determined to pick up the shipment of wood for the bunkhouse. While he was gone, I busied myself cleaning the dishes, sweeping the floor, and preparing the menu for dinner. The sound of a wagon had me on my feet, as I glanced through a window. I thought Frank had returned, but two men I did not know approached, their faces hidden beneath hats. I assumed Nathan Weaver was the one in the denim pants. The other man I had never met before.

  “Oh, Frank!” I sounded irritated. “Where are you? You were supposed to be back already.”

  I ventured down the hallway, past the dining room, which stood empty, as we did not have the means to purchase a table and chairs yet, and went to the door. The men jumped down from the wagon, removing their hats. Inhaling deeply, I squared my shoulders and prepared to face them.

  “Howdy!” called Nathan. “Mrs. Clark.”

  “Hello.” I stepped onto the front porch, squinting, as the sun was sharp at that moment. “My husband’s on his way home shortly. He went to get wood.”

  “This is Jerry Pratt.”

  “Hello.”

  “Good to meet you.” He was a stocky-looking man with a toothy grin. “Nice property you have here. Pretty house.”

  “Thank you.”

  Nathan took to the stairs, his booted feet clomping on the wood. “You should know, you saved me from a hog-killin’ time last night. I was a good boy, only had three whiskeys. Went to bed with all my faculties in place.”

  “I’m happy to hear it.”

  “It’s in my nature to be half seas over by evenin’, but all I could think about was your nifty little pamphlet on the dangers of alcohol.”

  Jerry stood beside him, his expression impassive. He had no idea what Nathan was talking about. “You’re teasing me, sir. That’s not polite.”

  “I know,” he murmured, grinning. “You make it too easy.”

  It was a struggle not to smile. “I can offer you some refreshments gentlemen. I have apple cider and lemonade. I’m sorry, but we don’t drink spirits here.”

  “The cider sounds good,” said Jerry. “That’s mighty generous of you, ma’am.”

  I held open the door. “Well, come inside then.”

  Jerry was the first across the threshold, his eyes spanning the parlor. “Nice.”

  Nathan was beside me, his height similar to my husband’s. He stared at me, his expression unreadable. Our eyes met; the moment stretched out for an infinite amount of time, the clock ticking in the parlor gave testimony to this fact. The sound of a wagon broke the spell, relief flooding me.

  “Oh, thank heavens. M-my husband’s here.”

  Chapter Five

  If I thought I would be in moral peril because of Nathan Weaver’s proximity, it was a relief to know that the men only spent one night in the house, using the dining room, where they lay upon their bedrolls. Although I felt a strong prick of awareness where Nathan was concerned, Frank kept the men busy, building the bunkhouse and beginning work in the field, where the ground was prepared for planting. I rarely saw them, except at mealtimes.

  “We’ll be able to plant the corn at the beginning of April,” said Frank, who bustled into the room. “I’m expanding the vegetable garden as well, but you’re going to have to manage it after it’s planted.”

  “I will.” I wiped my hands on the apron. I had been peeling potatoes. “It all seems to be falling into place.”

  He approached, grinning, and then he kissed my cheek. “Yes, my dear. Your worry over the men was for naught. They’re fine workers.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “What’s for dinner?”

  “Baked beans with pork and potatoes.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” He poured himself a glass of lemonade. “I want to get that smokehouse done, so we can cure meat.”

  “That would be good.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He gazed out the window. “It’s all falling into place.” He glanced at me. “But you seem unhappy. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m just hoping for a baby now. That would make it perfect.”

  Placing the glass on the table, he drew me into his arms. �
��It’ll happen, honey. I’ll impregnate you yet.”

  “Frank,” I gasped. “That’s so crude.”

  “I can’t wait to see you bulging with a baby. You’ll look lovely chubby and round.”

  “Stop that.”

  “Kiss me.”

  “No, I have sewing to do.”

  “You can always sew.”

  He leaned in, catching my cheek. I pushed against his chest. “Don’t. We might be seen.”

  “Heaven forbid! Then they’ll know this was no marriage of convenience.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Do you actually do love me? Is it true?” He was teasing.

  “You know it’s true. I had my choice of suitors, Frank Clark. I could’ve been a butcher’s wife or a lawman’s wife or with that banker from Albany. I might’ve missed an opportunity to live in style, but…here I am with you instead.” Would he take the bait?

  He placed a hand over his heart. “You’ve wounded me, my love. I was the last choice on a long list.”

  “You should be grateful I picked you at all.” I poked his chest with the tip of my finger. “You should count your lucky stars every day that I’m with you.”

  “I do.” He held me closer, his breath fanning out over my face. The aroma of lemonade lingered. “You should thank the stars I didn’t marry Gertrude Ledbetter. She was a strong contender for my heart. It was almost too close to call.”

  “Ouf!” I pushed him, but he held me firm. “That’s not true at all from what I recall. You wanted her sister.”

  “They were both handsome.”

  My mouth fell open. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “I am.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” said a deep voice I recognized instantly. Nathan stood in the doorway. “Might I have a word with Mr. Clark, please.”

  “Yes, of course.” Frank winked at me. “I’m coming.”

  “Afternoon, Mrs. Clark.” He’d removed his hat.

  “Afternoon.”

  “We’ll be back for supper, dear.”

  I found myself in an empty room, staring at the doorway. “Yes, Frank,” I murmured to myself.

  As the week wore on, the field was nearly tilled; only the western corner remained. The smokehouse was operational, with drying, salted meat hanging from a variety of hooks. I was impressed with all the improvements; the property had begun to resemble a true farm now. To my surprise, by Wednesday, the rattle of a carriage held my attention, as it drew to a stop in front of the house and Sally Higgins descended. She’d traveled all the way from town by herself.

  I rushed to the door, reaching it just as she made her way up the steps. “You came alone?” This was astonishing.

  “Of course I came alone.” She patted the pocket in the fold of her skirt. “Me and my good friend, Colt Navy, always travel together.”

  “You can handle a revolver?”

  “It’s all a part of living in the wild frontier. Of course I can handle the revolver. It doesn’t have a kick like a rifle. I’ll show you sometime. You need to talk that husband of yours into purchasing one for you. Then you can come to town more often.”

  There was an Indian attack two days ago. Three miners had been ambushed by the Cheyenne, although the details were murky. “Well, come in, and I’ll put the kettle on.”

  “Thank you, Hannah.” She removed her bonnet, eyeing the house. “You’ve made it very pretty.”

  “I have all kinds of ideas. I’m waiting for wallpaper to arrive. Then I’ll have more furniture sent out, hopefully by fall. It’s a shame we don’t have train service.”

  “I know. It makes everything that much harder.”

  In the kitchen, I set the kettle on the stove, excited to have a visitor. “Is your husband still angry about the pamphlet incident?”

  “Oh, heaven’s no. He’s fine; how about yours?”

  “Frank was surprised to see so many miners at church. I do think some of them looked over that paper and thought about things.”

  “A few rotten apples in that bunch went and spoiled it all. Most of those men are law abiding citizens, who have families out east.”

  “Yes, that’s true. Would you like milk and sugar?”

  “Please.” She glanced around the room. “Your husband’s been busy with improvements. Is that a smokehouse I saw?”

  “Why yes, it is. He expanded the kitchen garden too.”

  She looked thoughtful. “I sometimes think we should’ve moved further out, on account of being more self-sufficient. We rely solely on goods being shipped in. You’re lucky, Hannah.”

  “You could always get land and start a farm.”

  “I suppose, but we like to be close to our business.”

  I sat next to her. “Things have been going well. I do feel blessed. I’m mighty happy with my marriage too.”

  “Did you know Frank long?”

  “I’ve known him since I was fourteen.”

  “I see.”

  I had a thought. “How on earth do people meet one another here? If you’re not already married when you come out, how would you find a suitable partner?”

  “There are mail order brides.”

  “That’s truly a last resort.”

  “The widows have it the worst. Many of them have to…well, they work in the parlour houses.”

  “I can’t even imagine that.”

  “If a man dies unexpectedly, what’s a poor woman to do? There are so few opportunities here. Some of the soiled doves have become very successful madams. I’ve heard Ruby Wallace is a rich woman.”

  “Who’s Ruby Wallace?”

  “The owner of The Tainted Rose.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I shouldn't gossip, but it’s common knowledge.”

  I glanced at her expectantly, hoping to hear more.

  “Some of those women make $250 a night. When you think a miner only makes $3 a day, well, that’s a high price for…er…those services.”

  Stunned, I could only stare at her.

  “You heard me correct, Hannah. They make a pretty penny in that parlour house.”

  “Oh, my goodness.”

  “She’s a rich woman.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Now, will I get a tour or not? I want to see what sewing you’re working on. I’m always excited about the prospect of learning a fancy new stitch or two.”

  I smiled. “Well, I’ve been making baby clothes.”

  Her eyes widened. “Are you expecting?”

  “No, not yet, but…we’re trying.”

  “With that handsome husband, I’m sure you are.” She winked, getting to her feet. “Now, show me the house.”

  After Sally’s visit, I set about making dinner, preparing the beans and pork and placing dishes on the table. I’d had a marvelous afternoon with my unexpected visitor, but dinnertime was always a thrill, and I blushed in shame at the reason.

  I would never admit this to anyone, not even God, but I enjoyed being in Nathan’s company, although he was a rough sort of man and beneath me in almost every regard. I could sense his kindness, but his manner was boorish. He tried to be gentlemanly and not once since his arrival had he behaved inappropriately towards me, but he had returned drunk on Tuesday night, arriving on a horse he had borrowed, falling from it in front of the house, and waking us from a sound sleep. Frank had gone out to help him, but, other than that episode, things had been as peaceful as could be expected.

  We had sat down to dinner, Frank saying a prayer and blessing the food, while Nathan gazed at me. I averted my eyes, staring at the tablecloth. Being in such close proximity to him set me on edge, and I frequently knocked things over in a clumsy rush or stuttered my words. I prayed this affliction would end, because I was tired of having to ask God for forgiveness every night, for letting him affect me like this.

  “The food looks real good,” said Jerry, who reached for a fork.

  “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Clark,” said Nathan.

&nbs
p; “You’re welcome.” I placed the napkin in my lap.

  “My wife’s an excellent cook.”

  “Once the planting’s done, I might have to leave for a bit,” announced Nathan.

  I glanced at him. “Will you come back?”

  “I’ll be here for the harvest, but I promised to help a friend build a cabin.”

  “At Pike’s Peak?”

  “No, it’s closer to Breckenridge.”

  “Is he panning for gold?”

  “Yeah, but I doubt much will come of it.”

  From what little he had said before, I knew he hated gold mining. “Well, good luck.”

  He nodded, chewing. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  It was disappointing knowing that he would be leaving soon, although I chastised myself for feeling this way. Why should I care if he went into the mountains? This was hardly my concern.

  Once we had eaten and the dishes were washed, Jerry played the harmonica. We sat in the parlor listening, while I beat time with my toe. My skirt was long enough to hide this breach of etiquette. Tonight’s entertainment was rare, because the men rarely lingered after dinner, preferring the distractions of Denver City. They would come home in the middle of the night and then wake early to work the fields. How they managed with so little sleep was beyond me.

  Later that night, after I had brushed and braided my hair, I slipped under the covers, staring at my husband, who held a book. “Won’t we need them for summer?”

  “Hum? No. We just pray for rain and watch the corn grow.”

  “I see.”

  “I thought you didn’t care for them anyhow?”

  “They lack manners in all regards, but they seem nice.”

  “They’ve been behaving themselves, haven’t they?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.”

  I needed to discuss something that had been on my mind. “I really would like a pet.”

  “What?”

  “The wild cats in town. They’re having kittens now. I’d like to have one.”

  “Oh, goodness.”