Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set

by Jillian Hart

  Noah sat down and moved his chair closer to her so that their elbows touched.

  Dakota carried in the two platters and set them on the table. The eggs and bacon looked forlorn, Maeve thought as she saw them.

  “Thanks to whoever prepared this,” Noah said without looking at the food.

  Maeve glanced at Dakota and then back at the burnt edges of the eggs. She knew the ranch hand was planning to take the blame for the meal, but she glanced at him and shook her head slightly.

  “I’m the one who ruined the meal,” Maeve said.

  The men looked up in unison at that announcement. It didn’t take long for dismay to fill their faces. They looked as if they had lost their last chance at good cooking, she thought.

  “Let’s all pray,” Noah said quietly.

  Maeve was used to holding hands when she prayed, usually just with Violet, but she stilled the impulse as everyone bowed their heads.

  “Father, we thank You for Your goodness to us,” Noah said, his voice sincere. “Help us to live in ways that please You. We thank You for Your provisions for us. Bless this food. In Jesus’s name, Amen.”

  The men murmured in agreement as they looked up and opened their eyes.

  “At least she didn’t burn any biscuits,” Maeve heard one of the men mutter mournfully to another. “They’re my last hope.”

  She smiled. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  The men grinned with her.

  “All I know is that you better appreciate these eggs,” Dakota said as he started to pass the platters around. “These will be the last eggs we eat for a while.”

  “Huh?” Half of the men responded in shock. The others just sat there with their mouths open.

  “We’re going to take all the eggs and get some hens to sitting on them,” Dakota declared. “We need some babies around here.”

  The smile on Maeve’s face froze. She cast a frantic look toward Dakota.

  “Baby chicks?” Bobby asked the older ranch hand in further astonishment.

  Dakota nodded. “We need babies of any kind.”

  Maeve listened carefully, but Noah didn’t say another word.

  “I need to go see to Violet,” Maeve said as she nodded politely to all of the men.

  She stood and walked with dignity until she got through the bedroom door. Then she fought her queasiness and her tears. She dampened a cloth in the washbasin and put it on her forehead. She didn’t want Noah to see her like this. She hoped God was looking, though. She could use His help.

  * * *

  Noah knew leadership wasn’t always easy, but his men relied on him so he slid two eggs off the platter and started to eat them. He finally decided they were the worst eggs he’d ever eaten. The crispy black on the down side of the fried eggs made it impossible to taste the regular part. Not that the regular part looked all that appealing, either.

  “They’re very good,” Noah said, hoping no one questioned him. “Adequate anyway.”

  The men didn’t say anything.

  “Going without eggs for a while, might be good,” he added as he unsuccessfully tried to cut the egg with his fork.

  “I knew you’d see it my way,” Dakota said with jubilation in his voice. “You’ll like seeing all the babies around here. Maybe we can get some kittens, too. All kinds of babies.”

  Noah looked at the ranch hand. Something more was going on here than Dakota was saying, but the other man wasn’t saying what it was.

  “You missing your boy?” Noah asked. The cowboy’s son, who was almost thirty, was working in Chicago as a butcher. Dakota was very proud of him and his grandsons.

  “You can never have too many children,” the ranch hand said.

  Which wasn’t really an answer, Noah realized, so he was silent for a moment.

  “But what are we going to eat for breakfast?” Bobby asked in dismay, clearly impatient with all the talk of children and baby chickens.

  No one else was even attempting to eat their eggs. A few had picked up a slice of bacon. Even though that was charred, the bacon broke off into manageable pieces.

  “Christmas gruel,” Dakota answered emphatically as he put a bit of bacon in his mouth. “It’s served at Christmas in that story by Charles Dickens. The one with all the orphan children. Having such a hard time. It’s in the book Noah has. Gruel is good for the holidays.”

  “They only ate that because they had nothing else to eat,” Bobby protested.

  Dakota nodded. “Like us.”

  “I don’t even know what’s in it,” Bobby lamented.

  “Oats and water,” Dakota assured him. “Maybe some wheat if we can find any in the barn.”

  So far, all the men except Bobby were treating Dakota’s suggestion as a joke. The more time that went by, though, he could see their uncertainty rise.

  Noah knew he was going to have to do something or he would have a full-blown mutiny on his hands. Besides, it was cold outside today and would be tomorrow. His men needed to check on the cattle in the ravine north of here. He had some crackers and beef jerky they could take for their noon meal, but they couldn’t go without breakfast for many days.

  “The coffee is good,” he told the men. “And I’ll talk to Maeve about making us some pancakes tomorrow.”

  “Pancakes are easy,” Bobby said in relief. “She can make them without any problems.”

  “That woman shouldn’t be cooking,” Dakota declared emphatically.

  “Why’s that?” Noah looked at his ranch hand, but the man didn’t say anything more. “If anyone has anything against Mrs. Flanagan, they should say so now.”

  “What?” several of them asked in shock.

  “Of course we don’t,” the others said.

  All of the men looked at him with accusation in their eyes, likely wondering if he had something against her.

  “I’m not suggesting you needed to have anything to say,” he told them. “She seems like a perfectly fine woman.”

  Dakota snorted. “She’s better than that. And if you’re not going to court her properly, I intend to find someone who will.”

  Noah felt his breath leave him. His men knew too much. “I didn’t mean to give the impression I’m not going to court her.”

  “Well, that’s what she thinks,” Dakota said, not giving an inch in his stance.

  “I’ll talk to her, then, and make sure she knows the decision is hers,” Noah finally said.

  That seemed to make the men relax.

  “Bobby,” Noah said as he turned to the ranch hand. “There are some cans of peaches in the front closet. I was saving them for Christmas, but I think we’re close enough. Go ahead and bring a can for each of us.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” the younger man said as he stood up quickly and began to walk.

  Everyone looked happier at that news.

  The men took their knives out and opened their cans of peaches. After they ate them, they each took some strips of beef jerky and crackers wrapped in a clean bandanna pouch for their noon meal, and left the kitchen. None of them said much, although Dakota did give him a strange look. All of them would be saddled and looking over the cattle soon enough. Ordinarily, Noah would ride with them, but today he wanted to stay home with Maeve and Violet and make sure they had everything they needed to be comfortable.

  He hadn’t opened his can of peaches, so he dug in his pocket for his knife and started jabbed the point of it into the tin lid of the can.

  Then he heard a shuffling noise behind him. The sun was shining into the room in full force now and the smell of burnt bacon had not gone away.

  He turned around and Violet stood there in a white nightgown with a long ruffle at the bottom of it. Her eyes were solemn and he could tell she was ready to turn and run at the slightest hint of trouble.

  “My mommy says knives aren’t nice,” the girl said, her voice reproachful.

  “They can be bad,” Noah agreed as he put his down on the table. “But I’m using this one to open a can of peaches. Do
you like peaches?”

  Violet’s gaze did not waver. “My daddy was killed with a knife.”

  Noah turned his chair so he was facing the child. “I know. And I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  The girl did not say anything, but he could see her studying him.

  “Your face isn’t scary anymore,” she finally said.

  “I shaved,” he agreed. “And so did all of the other men who live here.”

  She nodded and took a step toward him.

  “My mommy cried when my daddy died,” she informed him, standing much closer to him.

  “I’m sure she did.”

  Noah was glad that Dakota had left the fire going in the cookstove. The girl was barefoot and, while her nightgown had long sleeves, she had to be chilly. If he didn’t think he’d frighten her, he’d offer to give her his vest for extra warmth.

  Just then he heard another cry and looked up to see Maeve rushing down the hall toward her daughter. She ran to Violet and knelt down beside her daughter.

  Then she turned to Noah.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, frantically. “I hope she didn’t bother you.”

  “Of course not.” Noah was almost offended. He would have gone on to explain that he wanted her and Violet here, but Maeve had already put her arm around the girl and was shepherding her back to the bedroom.

  Within minutes, Maeve came back out in the hallway. She was trying to smooth back the copper curls flying around her head and straighten the white apron that had gotten twisted around her waist.

  Noah smiled. He hadn’t seen such an enchanting scene in his whole life.

  By the time she stood in front of him, though, she was all tidied up. Her hair was forced into some kind of a net. Her apron was right where it belonged. And all of the charm had gone out of her. She was stiff and formal.

  “I’m so sorry,” she repeated the words she’d said earlier. “I fell asleep and Violet got away. It won’t happen again.”

  Noah’s heart sank. She was acting as if she was a servant in his home. That wasn’t what he’d intended, even though he knew the ad made it sound that way.

  “You are my guests,” he said. “I want you to feel like this is your home. Violet is free to wander about.”

  Maeve nodded, but she looked at him uncertainly. Noah suddenly realized that she would never relax as long as he was in the house. He stood up and was careful to take his knife off the table and fold the blade down so he could put it into his pocket.

  “I have some work to do in the barn,” he said. “If you need anything just step outside and holler. The men took food with them and won’t be back until supper.”

  She nodded and he saw the relief in her eyes.

  He turned and walked away then. He had some bridles he could mend and it wouldn’t hurt to clean out the milk stalls. He had to admit, though, that he’d rather spend the day in the house with Maeve and Violet. Maybe he’d have been able to sneak another kiss.

  Chapter Six

  Maeve was determined to show Noah that she knew how to cook. She’d gone back to the kitchen after he left and sat at the table, letting her gaze wander around the large room. Even some of the houses in Boston didn’t have a kitchen this big. A dinner there usually included fish and beef. Maybe potatoes and a root vegetable. Fresh berries if it was summer. Or a pudding for dessert if it was winter.

  She’d never eaten those meals, but the cook had described them to her in great detail. Not that she’d be able to make food like that here. She didn’t have the supplies.

  But she’d seen a bag of flour and she had some sourdough starter tucked away in a jar in the corner of her trunk. Once she got the skillets and platters washed, she would make bread. She didn’t think anyone had baked anything in this house for a long time. She suspected everything had been fried.

  She stood up and looked around the table again. Not many of the dishes had been used. She’d just stack the clean plates and put the utensils back in the jars.

  She figured a ranch like this would have a root cellar, too, and she’d noticed a mound of earth to the east of the house that was likely it. She’d explore that and see what they had.

  By the time the sun was high in the sky, Maeve had finished. Ten round loaves of sourdough bread were cooling on the table. She’d churned enough cream to make four large mounds of butter. The root cellar had potatoes, carrots and onions so she’d made two big pans of stew. She normally would have used some beef or rabbit with it, but she had neither. Instead, she cut bacon into small pieces and added that for flavor.

  Once the cooking was done, Maeve found a mop and washed the plank flooring in the kitchen and the hall. Then she scrubbed the wood table where everyone ate.

  Violet came out and decided to play doll with a long pillow she’d found in the parlor. She put Maeve’s black hat on the top of it and tied a red bandanna around its middle for a dress. She then got the mistletoe off the dresser and practiced giving her doll a Christmas kiss under it. Maeve just shook her head and laughed.

  Finally, the girl went to take a nap and Maeve finished her work.

  By that time, perspiration was dripping off her face. The fabric of her black dress stuck to her. She had her hair tied back and she had smudges on her white apron where she’d wiped her hands after rinsing out the mop.

  When she heard the rap on the front door, she almost bolted to the bedroom. But then the person knocked again. She figured it was someone to see Noah and he hadn’t heard them come up to the house. Then she realized it might be someone who needed help. The storm had passed, but there was a lot of snow on the ground.

  At the third knock, Maeve went to the door and opened it.

  “Oh,” she breathed out in wonder.

  The most beautiful woman she’d ever seen was standing there. Her jet-black hair was twisted into a perfect knot and a dove-colored hat swooped down over her delicate face. The brim of the hat was decorated with bright red ribbon. Her overcoat of pearl gray matched a silk dress of the same color underneath. The silk shimmered with every slight movement the woman made, and she was adjusting the coat on her shoulders so the silk was a constant change of color.

  Maeve was speechless—which didn’t matter as the woman clearly intended to speak.

  “I understand this is Noah Miller’s house,” she said, not even waiting for Maeve to nod before adding, “Tell him that his wife is here.”

  “Oh,” Maeve repeated. This was the woman who had left Noah. And now she was back. Maeve was poised to make some remark about the sanctity of marriage when the woman spoke again.

  “I see Noah finally decided I was right and that he needed some domestic help.” The woman paused to eye Maeve’s dress and apron with disapproval. “I assume you have some references so, if you work out, I will keep you on. I can’t imagine where else we would find a maid out here in this wilderness.”

  Maeve could feel the pink rise on her cheeks. The woman had so much incorrect that Maeve almost didn’t know where to start.

  “This is not a wilderness,” Maeve began her protest. “And, no, I don’t have references. But I don’t need them because—”

  Just then, Maeve heard two sets of boots stomping through the house. She turned and there was Noah and Jimmy, the boy from the mercantile, charging down the hallway until they both stood behind her in the doorway.

  “What are you doing here?” Noah demanded from her left side.

  “I thought you might need some help celebrating Christmas,” the woman said with a flirtatious smile.

  “You never bothered to do anything special for Christmas when we were married,” Noah said and Maeve could tell he’d crossed his arms because she felt one of them touch her back. “Why would you do anything now?”

  “I’ve been lonely for you,” she said, summoning up a tear.

  Maeve didn’t want to watch any more of the performance. She supposed she should be happy. Noah had his wife back and he could finally start living in his parlor. He’d clear
ly been waiting for the woman. But Maeve knew one thing for sure. She wasn’t going to work in this house for that woman.

  Turning so she could leave, Maeve stepped back so that Noah and Jimmy were suddenly in front of her.

  “I’m just here with the delivery,” Jimmy said then, obviously nervous to be that close to the conflict. He looked at Noah. “She called herself Alice Miller. She said she’s your wife. I knew she couldn’t be, but she insisted I give her a ride out here and I didn’t know what to do—”

  So her name was Alice, was it? Maeve thought sourly. She’d always liked the name Alice until now.

  Noah wasn’t paying any attention to Jimmy’s stuttered excuses. Instead, he was staring at the woman.

  “He left you, didn’t he?” Noah demanded to know. “That man you said was a judge. The one you divorced me to marry? What was his name?”

  Alice shrugged. “Judge Brandon Scott of Denver. No, he didn’t leave me. I’m the one who left him. I should have known he wouldn’t measure up to you. He didn’t even—” She leaned closer to Noah. “You know I’ve always liked a man who has assets.”

  Noah looked at the woman with enough disgust to warm Maeve’s heart. She decided she would stay for a few minutes, after all.

  “Don’t tell me you left him because he’s broke,” Noah said. “And I suppose you married him, too.”

  Alice looked startled at that. “Of course I married him. I’d have no standing at all when he died if I didn’t. No one thought he’d lose his job.”

  Noah shook his head.

  “Don’t worry, though,” the woman assured him. “It’s not that hard to get a divorce. We did.”

  “You’re going back on the wagon with Jimmy,” Noah said decisively.

  “But I’m hungry,” Alice protested, clearly surprised that she’d been ordered to leave. She batted her eyelids and struck a pose that made her look helpless. “And I need to eat in my condition.”

  “What condition is that?” Noah said impatiently.

  Alice smiled. “Why I’m pregnant, of course.”

  Maeve wished she’d had sense enough to leave sooner. She could see the battle on Noah’s face and she figured his resigned look meant what she thought it did. She was going back to the bedroom until the woman left.