The Drifter's Mail-Order Bride: (A Western Historical Romance) (The Dalton Brides Book 4)

by Cassie Hayes

  There was that word ‘stuck’ again. Who in their right mind would think a man could ever be ‘stuck’ with her as a wife? If he’d been the marrying kind, he’d be tickled pink to have such a comely, talented and smart woman as Bonnie. As it was, he was tickled to have her as his house manager, which was about as close to a wife as he ever wanted to have.

  He also couldn’t help noticing she was back to calling him Mr. Dalton again. That stung a bit. He didn’t know which to address first so he kept his mouth shut and hoped the whole thing would blow over.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  As he and his brothers worked in silence on building a new fence that morning, Bart’s thoughts kept returning to Bonnie. Of course the vision of her in the bathtub kept flashing unbidden into his mind, but more than that, he marveled at her ability to adapt. She was a tough woman who didn’t mind hard work.

  What little time he’d spent with her sisters made him glad his brothers had picked first. Neither one of those gals would have had the sense to see the situation for what it was and offer a solution. The blonde one would have probably thrown a tantrum and that other…well, she was like a lost puppy.

  In fact, over breakfast, Bonnie had very efficiently laid out her plans for his spread — their spread. She would scope out a prime spot for a garden that morning, before going to teach her sisters how to cook. She’d come back and scrub the rest of what she called a “shack” and start working on a list of furnishings to buy or order.

  “I hope that’s not too forward of me,” she said, peeking at him over the rim of the chipped enamel of her coffee mug.

  He’d barely said a word because he was too busy stuffing his face with the most delicious breakfast he’d eaten in months, years maybe. It was just simple bacon and eggs, stolen from Walt’s pantry, but the eggs were cooked perfectly. Just soft enough for the yolks to run a little so he could dunk his crispy bacon in it.

  Walt always burned eggs. Of course, Bart never complained. He’d spent far too many mornings on the trail hankering for any kind of food, so burnt was fine by him. But Bonnie’s cooking…he could tell by the two meals she’d already whipped up — out of thin air, it seemed — he was going to be back to his fighting weight before Roamer had time to heal.

  “Mr. Dalton? Did you hear me?”

  Bart shook himself back to the present. Setting his fork down with a clink, he gave her a stern look. “I got plenty of money to buy whatever you need but I won’t let you buy a single thing till you start calling me Bart. I ain’t Mr. Dalton; that’s my Pa!”

  A light blush pinked her pale skin as she dropped her eyes and smiled. “Well…”

  “What wife calls her husband by his surname?” he continued, breaking into a grin. “Heck, we don’t want anyone to suspect this ain’t a real marriage.”

  Her lips went from a sweet smile to a grim line. What had he said? She glanced up and nodded curtly, hopping up to clear the dishes.

  “Quite right, Bart. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  Where they’d had a pleasant, easy conversation over breakfast, the silence between them now was tense. She didn’t seem angry, but something had changed. Worst of all, he suspected it was something he’d said but, as he twisted the wire of the new fence in place, he couldn’t for the life of him figure what.

  It made his feet itch.

  Chapter 9

  Bonnie loved her sisters — she truly did — but she couldn’t help being frustrated at having to teach them how to boil water. Why had Mama not taught her two beauties at least a few basic skills?

  It didn’t matter now. She would have to be the one to teach her sisters how to keep a home, even though it meant she had less time to dedicate to setting up her own household.

  But it wasn’t all bad. She’d already talked with her brothers-in-law in private and made arrangements for compensation. Until Bart could take the new brides into Wiggieville for provisions, she could raid their stores, including Nate’s henhouse. Considering how bare Bart’s pantry was, this seemed more than fair to her.

  Spending the morning with her sisters was refreshing. That was strange because they’d spent their entire lives trying to spend time away from each other, but out here in the vastness of Texas, they all were eager to see each other.

  Gwen fairly glowed when she opened the door. There was a bounce in her step and a certain maturity Bonnie had never seen in her before. She smiled inwardly that their little talk the night before had produced good results. It was a minor miracle that Gwen hadn’t run screaming down the streets of Weatherford the moment she heard what was in store for her, but to be so happy in just twenty-four hours? It made Bonnie’s heart swell with happiness and pride for her once-spoiled sister.

  Libby, on the other hand, seemed rather glum for a new bride. That was strange because she’d been so excited to get married, and Nate seemed like such a considerate and patient man. When she announced that she’d made her poor groom sleep on the floor, Bonnie stifled a giggle because hers had done the same.

  She didn’t dare tell her sisters of her arrangement with Bart because they’d probably laugh at her. Either that or get worried, and she didn’t want that either. Honestly, she was perfectly happy with their business partnership. It was all she ever expected out of a marriage anyway. Better, in fact, because neither of them had any expectation of love or romance. All that brought was heartbreak and too many mouths to feed.

  She just needed to stay on top of her feelings because this morning over breakfast, she’d let her guard down the tiniest bit and Bart had quickly reminded her of her place. Their marriage wasn’t “real” and she had no claim to his heart. Whatever schoolgirl fantasy she’d had on the trip to Texas, this was her reality. All she had to do was remember that.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  “Hoo boy, somethin’ smells mighty good!”

  Bart came tromping through the front door, his filthy boots scattering chunks of dirt everywhere. He tossed his dusty hat at the bent nail where she’d hung her shawl, no doubt dirtying the precious heirloom knit by her grandmother.

  “Boots!” she cried, tending the gravy she planned to pour over some leftover biscuits Gwen had given her. “And could you please leave them and the hat outside?”

  He stopped dead in his tracks, a perplexed look on his face, before doing as she asked…and grumbling the whole time. By the time he came back in, she was setting a steaming plate of biscuits and sausage gravy on the table for him. He immediately forgot his irritation at having to live like a civilized human being.

  “Ain’t you gonna eat with me?” he said, settling himself on the old crate and pushing out the chair with his toe.

  “I really have quite a lot of work to catch up on,” she protested. “I spent all morning teaching my sisters how to make bread so I haven’t had time to take care of this place.”

  “One thing I learned on the road was to never skip a meal if’n I could help it.” One eyebrow shot up and he looked at her like a teacher would a student. She couldn’t help but laugh and dish herself up a plate of food.

  “Where’d you find all this grub anyway?” he asked through a mouthful after she’d sat down across from him.

  “I took your lead and raided your brothers’ pantries,” she said slyly. She rather liked feeling naughty, even though she’d had permission to take the food. Bart didn’t need to know that.

  Now both eyebrows shot up. “You don’t say… I may have misjudged you, Bonnie Blue.”

  “No doubt about it,” she sniffed.

  He chuckled in response and kept eating. From beneath her lashes, Bonnie watched him chew. She liked the angle of his jaw, and the tumble of his brown hair. He was so different from his brothers that she wondered how they could be triplets. Bart was by far the most handsome of the three, and that was a fact.

  “Why did you go?”

  “Hmm?” He was still chewing.

  “When you were seventeen. Why did you leave home?”

  Bart was silent for a minut
e before answering. “Still don’t rightly know. I just know I had to go. Alone. Been alone ever since.”

  This shocked Bonnie. “You mean you never see people? Ever?”

  He laughed good-naturedly. “Naw, I travel with folks here and there. Sometimes I stop for a spell to earn some money. But I try not to go to the same place twice, and the men I travel with are drifters like me. You don’t get too close to those kind of men.”

  That sounded more reasonable. Appealing, even. “Tell me more,” she pleaded. He was such a good storyteller.

  Wiping his sleeve across his mouth, he grinned at her. “Okay, why not? Let’s see… There was the time I accidentally insulted a Lakota chief in the Dakota Territory and had to outrun him and a bunch of his warriors. Phew, that one was close! After I realized what I done, though, I couldn’t blame him much.”

  Bonnie was on the edge of her seat. “What did you say to him to make him so mad?”

  Bart cleared his throat and turned red. “Well…I…uh…I got mixed up on my Sioux words — you know Lakota are Sioux, right? Anyway, I thought I was giving the chief’s daughter a compliment, but I mixed up ‘pretty as a butterfly’ and ‘stupid as a butter churn’.”

  Bonnie burst out laughing. It would be hard to blame any father for defending his daughter against such an insult. She made a mental note to learn the local Indian language before trying to compliment anyone.

  “What about you, Bonnie Blue? Tell me one of your favorite adventures.” A gleam sparkled in his eyes as he leaned back against the wall and relaxed.

  “I don’t have any,” she shrugged. “I grew up the daughter of a well-to-do merchant. I’m the oldest and he was bitterly disappointed that I wasn’t a son. My brother Benedict came next, so he was happy but I don’t think he ever really liked me all that much, especially after Gwen came along.”

  A little crease formed at Bart’s brow. “Why?”

  Bonnie laughed, hoping he didn’t catch the slight hint of bitterness in it. “Haven’t you seen her? She’s ‘Gorgeous Gwen’! All the boys in town groveled at her feet, including Papa. I was just ‘Scrawny Bonnie’.”

  That brought a full frown to his face. She tried to pretend it meant nothing to her, that she was above the cruel nickname, but he must have caught her tone.

  “What a bunch of horse puckey! No wonder that girl’s so spoiled.” He broke into a grin. “Hoo boy, is Walt gonna have his hands full with that one!”

  Bonnie tried not to snicker, but couldn’t help herself. He was right. Gwen was spoiled and had absolutely no homemaking skills. Walton was in for some meager meals until she could learn to cook.

  “Speak of the devil, Walt’s probably ready to head back to work by now. I best skedaddle.”

  He jumped up from the crate and hustled to the door, but just before he stepped out, he turned back to her with a smile. “That was the nicest lunch I’ve had in I don’t know how long. I thank ya, Bonnie Blue.”

  The funny warm feeling in her tummy lasted the rest of the day.

  Chapter 10

  The next few days went by much the same as the first. Bart would wake up to delicious and amazing smells wafting out of the kitchen and, after some energizing banter with Bonnie, he’d head out deep into their land with his brothers. They’d return for lunch and, by dinnertime, they were all tuckered out.

  By the way Walt whistled every morning, Bart suspected things were going relatively well with his new wife, at least in the bedroom. Sure, there was the odd afternoon when he came back from lunch on the grumpy side, but Walt would never complain to his brothers about his marriage. It would show weakness.

  Nate had always been the quiet one of the three, and it was no different now. Bart could tell something was troubling his brother, but he didn’t share and Bart wasn’t about to ask. If either of them wanted to talk, he’d be there. Just as they’d be there for him. Not that he needed to talk.

  Nope, things were chugging along just fine with Bonnie. After a long day of work, he spent one evening building a door for her room. It was the least he could do after walking in on her during that bath, the memory of which still tickled his brain at the worst possible moments.

  She loved to hear stories from his travels and he never realized how much he enjoyed telling them. He didn’t even have to exaggerate most of his tales, and it wasn’t until the telling that he realized how adventurous he’d been for the last decade.

  One day he came home for lunch a little early only to find Bonnie stirring a pot of stew absentmindedly while reading King Solomon’s Mines, one of the only books he ever kept. “How do you like it?” he asked when they settled down to eat.

  “It’s quite entertaining,” she said, but there was a hesitation in her tone.

  “But?”

  “But…it’s fiction. I much prefer hearing the stories of your, what do you call them? Safaris? Even if some of the details are a little embellished.” She gave him a knowing smile that made him laugh out loud.

  “You caught me! But they aren’t all fish tales.”

  “Maybe you should write a book,” she suggested. He’d never really thought of it till now, but his stories were every bit as exciting as ol’ Allan Quatermain’s. Well…nearly.

  “Naw, I don’t sit still long enough to even try such a thing. ‘Sides, my spelling’s right awful.”

  He grabbed the last hunk of bread on the cutting board and sopped up the last drops of his soup. Hoo boy, she knew how to cook. He’d already had to move to the next notch on his belt and it’d only been a few days.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Bart quickly got used to leaving his work boots and dusty old hat on the porch when he came inside. He’d never been one for housekeeping, but even he could see how much work Bonnie put into cleaning the cabin. It was the least he could do to not track in half their ranch with him every day.

  When he walked through the door in his stocking feet that night, the scent of roasting meat hit him hard in the gut. He sure would miss these meals when he lit off for good, so he’d enjoy them while he could. He’d also enjoy the company of a fine woman. Probably the finest he’d ever met.

  Not only was she the best cook he’d ever run across, but she was smart, funny and generous to boot. A part of him felt guilty for locking her into a marriage of convenience because she deserved so much more. She deserved a husband who would appreciate her in every way a man should.

  Another part of him was glad his brothers had been so short-sighted when choosing their mates. They’d only gone for outward beauty, and it was true that their wives were conventionally pretty. But Bonnie had a hidden beauty that glowed like the sun when she let you take a peek at it. The other sisters couldn’t compare to his Bonnie Blue.

  “I don’t suppose the mercantile will be open in Wiggieville tomorrow when we go to church, will it?” Bonnie asked over dinner.

  “Church?” he sputtered. Walt had dragged him to church a few times since arriving but it was by no means a regular outing for them. There was too much work on the ranch.

  “Of course. It’s our first Sunday here, and it’s all arranged with your brothers. You didn’t know?”

  He’d holler at them later for springing it on him, but he could see how important it was for her to go. “It’s no trouble, we just work most Sundays. It’ll be a good chance to convince the others we’re in love.”

  “Yes, of course,” she said, averting her gaze. “So about the mercantile?”

  “Naw, town shuts up tighter than a drum on Sundays. ‘Cept the saloon, of course. That’s always open.”

  Bonnie smirked. “Well, I don’t suppose they stock furnishings and dry goods, do they?”

  Bart laughed. “No dry goods there. Only wet. But I tell ya what. I’ll take you ladies into town bright and early Monday morning. Then you can order the furniture and what-not you need to turn this shack into your home.”

  After the dinner dishes were done, Bonnie brought a small leather-covered book to the table, along with a pen and
inkwell. When she opened the book, he saw it was blank, like a diary. She looked at him expectantly.

  “What’s all this?”

  “Bart, your stories are so wonderful, they should be written down. I thought I could write them as you tell them, since you don’t seem keen on writing them yourself. What do you think?”

  He still didn’t think anyone outside his family would want to read them, but it sounded like a fun thing to do. Goodness knew he loved to tell his tales, and Bonnie seemed to love hearing them. What could it hurt?

  “I think a chaparral fox is plumb foolish alongside you, Bonnie Blue.”

  Once again, he couldn’t help feeling bad for his brothers that one of them didn’t choose Bonnie. Heck, he thought, just look at that smile!

  Chapter 11

  It was going to be a stressful day for Bonnie. Not only would she be meeting new people at church, but she’d have to pretend all day that she and Bart were happily married because all three couples were having a late lunch together at Nate’s house.

  It had been easy enough to fool her sisters into believing she and Bart were a real couple during their daily homemaking lessons, but this would be the first time spending any amount of time with them. If his brothers knew him half as well as her sisters knew her, they might suspect something. Of course, according to Bart, the triplets could practically read each others’ minds, so she was worried they’d figure it out as soon as they saw them together.

  With only two dresses to her name, there was only so much dressing up she could do. Once they went to town and bought some cloth, that would change, but for now, she would just have to deal with what she had. Tucking her hair up under her prettiest bonnet, she walked out of the bedroom.

  She’d washed and mended all of Bart’s clothes over the past week, and he looked smart in freshly pressed trousers and a blue wool shirt. He also looked confused.

  “When did you find the time to do all the washing? Can’t remember the last time this shirt was clean.”