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

by Cassie Hayes

  “What happened? Why’d you leave?”

  “You know why, boy. We got the same itchy feet, you ’n me.”

  Winston squinted at him hard. For a brief moment, he stopped swaying and focused entirely on Bart. It sent a shiver down Bart’s spine.

  “Watch yerself, Burt, or one day, not too long from now, you’ll end up jest like me.”

  With that, he resumed swaying and stumbled away, apparently forgetting he’d been in the middle of a conversation. Winston disappeared down a side street, leaving Bart swaying in his place.

  Chapter 14

  Bart hardly said a word on the ride back to the shared ranch. Bonnie wondered if he was angry at how much she’d bought and ordered in town, but he’d said she could get whatever she needed. She certainly hadn’t bought anything frivolous, but the final bill was a fair bit more than what either of her sister’s purchased. Of course, they had fully furnished homes so that shouldn’t have been surprising.

  No, something else was bothering him, she could tell, and the only thing that made sense was the almost-kiss. He must have regretted even thinking about kissing the likes of her, and now he was pulling away to not lead her on. Either that, or she misread the whole situation entirely and had only imagined he was about to kiss her.

  Whatever was going on, he sat on the far side of the seat from her and didn’t once let her take the reins. Her sisters went on and on about the bolts of fabric and supplies they bought, and how Bonnie was going to teach them to sew, and Thanksgiving dinner, and on and on.

  “Bonnie, that wardrobe you ordered is just lovely,” Libby said at some point.

  Bart shot her a look. “You bought furniture?”

  She gnawed on her lip, worried that she’d made him mad. They’d been getting along so well and now…

  “Only the wardrobe. I…I need someplace to put my clothes. Is that a problem?”

  “Naw, I just didn’t realize you were ordering furniture. Is that it?”

  Her hackles raised at his strange mood.“For now,” she said defiantly.

  She caught his small smirk out of the corner of her eye. Maybe he wasn’t mad after all. And why did she care anyway? She was managing his homestead, and the place needed to be furnished. Either he trusted her or he didn’t. She crossed her arms in a huff and refused to look at him until they got home.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Bart waited till he’d dropped off Bonnie’s sisters before he spoke again. Clearly his chat with Winston had rattled him, but he wasn’t sure why. The old bugger was always going off like that. Then when he asked Bonnie a simple question, she got mad at him. Having been on the receiving end of her sharp tongue before, he decided to play it safe and shut his trap for the rest of the ride.

  But as soon as they pulled up in front of their cabin, he asked, “Ready for your shooting lesson?”

  He caught her off guard and he liked the way she blinked at him in confusion. “Excuse me?”

  “Your shooting lesson, remember? We can put all this away later. If you promise not to blow my head off, I’ll teach you how to shoot a shotgun.”

  She tried not to laugh, he could tell, but she couldn’t stop from giggling. Just hearing her laugh made him feel better. Whatever had gotten into him was gone. He didn’t like feeling all mixed up.

  Out back of the barn, Bart set a hay bale on end and paced back fifty steps. Bonnie paid close attention when he loaded and unloaded the shotgun, and imitated him perfectly on her first try. She had a little trouble pulling back the hammer, but quickly figured out a way to do it more efficiently without having to rely on brute strength. Hoo boy, she was a smart one.

  “Okay, now see those two notches? You sight down the barrel till they line up, then you just pull the trigger.”

  BLAM!

  Not a single speck of hay went flying. She’d missed completely. His ears were still ringing when he realized Bonnie was flat on her back. The gun had knocked the tiny little thing over completely!

  “You hurt, Bonnie Blue?” A flash of anxiety ran through him but eased when he saw the determined glint in her eye. He didn’t even have time to give her a hand up before she was back on her feet, aiming the gun.

  “Now hold on one second. That there was the shotgun’s kick. Almost as bad as a mule’s. Ya gotta brace that shoulder hard and maybe plant your feet a little wider. Then lean into it when you’re ready to shoot. Atta girl! Now try again.”

  BLAM!

  She still missed the hay bale completely, but at least this time she stayed on her feet. The fierce grin on her face and the wild look in her eyes gave him a moment’s pause before he handed over more shells.

  “Be careful, that barrel’s hot,” he warned. It took a minute for her to reload but she did it all on her own.

  “Ready?” she asked. He stifled a chuckle and nodded.

  BLAM!

  A small corner of the bale disappeared in a puff of hay. “Again.” He didn’t have to say it twice.

  BLAM!

  This time the entire bale tumbled over, a fine dusting of hay fluttering all around it. “You did it!” he cried, sweeping her up in his arms.

  She laughed and did her best not to drop the gun as he spun her around. Setting her on her feet, he looked down at her. Her eyes were sparkling like the gems they resembled and her cheeks were a fetching shade of pink.

  His finger moved of its own accord to stroke one, but he stopped himself. No sense going down that road again. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a friendly side-hug.

  “You’re a natural, Bonnie Blue. I won’t have to worry about you a bit when I’m out on safari. Now you get to learn how to clean the thing.”

  Chapter 15

  Aside from the strange tension on the ride home, Bonnie had the best day of her life. She scratched off several items from her to-do list during that one trip to Wiggieville, she drove a wagon team and she learned to shoot a gun. Bart even showed her how to hitch and unhitch the wagon a few times.

  “Easy,” she declared, to which Bart smiled.

  “That’s my Bonnie Blue!”

  A glow warmed her tummy at his praise. He even complimented her on her good sense when they unpacked all the supplies she bought. She showed him in the record book she started how much each item cost and the running tally of his finances. She didn’t really consider it ‘their’ finances because her job was to simply manage it.

  Once things settled down and her sisters didn’t need so much help, she’d probably start a sewing business or some such thing to earn her own spending money. Trinkets and frilly things never appealed to her much, but Mr. Fisher had a beautiful tortoise shell hair set that caught her eye.

  “You should buy it,” Gwen had urged. “You deserve it.”

  A remnant of bitterness welled in her at the comment because her mother had gifted an heirloom set very much like it to Gwen, when by all rights she should have given it to the oldest daughter.

  “She needs it more than you,” was all Mama said when Bonnie brought up the subject. It was all she needed to say because her meaning was clear: Bonnie was too homely for anything to make her look attractive.

  She’d never spend so much of Bart’s money on such a thing, as it wasn’t necessary to the running of the house, but she couldn’t deny wanting to own it. Besides, who would she try to attract? For all intents and purposes, Bart was her employer. But since she also happened to be married to him, it wasn’t like she could flirt with other men.

  Shaking the bad thoughts from her head, she focused on all the food she now had to choose from. A nice roast with her special roasted root vegetables and a pie for dessert sounded like a wonderful way to celebrate such a wonderful day.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Under Bonnie’s direction, Bart put away all the goods she bought in town. There’d never been so much food in his little cabin before and he boggled at it all. They could survive the winter on those stores alone, but she insisted they’d have to make another trip to town in
a few weeks to replenish. He shook his head in wonder and bit his tongue.

  It wasn’t the money. Lord knew he had plenty since the ranch had already turned a small profit and he had nothing to spend it on. Bart had wanted his brothers to keep most of it, or at least put it back into the ranch, but Walt had insisted he put it away for “a rainy day,” he’d said.

  It suddenly dawned on him that Walt had planned on ordering up wives for them from the very beginning! That’s why he wanted Bart to save his money. That’s why he was always nagging him to make or buy some furniture. He wanted to trap Bart into staying put. Why, that dagblamed, no-good sonofa—

  “Supper’s ready,” Bonnie chimed, interrupting his internal rant.

  He was still fuming at his belated realization that he’d been played for a chump from the moment he answered Walt’s letter, but he did his best to put on a happy face. The roast she laid on the little table smelled delicious, and she served her famous fluffy mashed potatoes. Again.

  “Mashed taters again, huh?”

  She gaped at him for a second while he plopped a spoonful onto his plate and stabbed a slice of the meat. “I-I-I thought you liked my potatoes.”

  He shrugged and stuffed some into his mouth, instantly regretting taking his frustration with Walt out on her. Her cooking was the best he’d ever had, and he looked forward to it.

  “Sorry, I’m just cross with Walt. I could eat your taters every day for the rest of my life.”

  Her frown eased and her cheeks flushed. Dropping her gaze, she spun around and hurried back to the kitchen. He wondered what that was about. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was love-struck or something.

  As he chewed in silence, his thoughts bounced from Walt to Winston to Bonnie and back again. He couldn’t make head nor tails from any of it sitting here in the cabin. The soles of his feet itched something fierce.

  Pushing back from the table, he said, “I need to go check on Roamer. Mighty fine meal, Bonnie Blue. Sorry again for gettin’ testy with you.”

  Before she could say a word, he was out the door and headed for the barn.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  The moment he stepped in the barn, he felt he could breathe again. Roamer whinnied at him, no doubt scolding him for leaving him behind every day. Bart grabbed the curry comb and started stroking his old friend.

  “Sorry, Roamer, but I was just looking out for that hoof o’ yours. ‘Sides, Dimple Junior needed some time in the fields.”

  The old chestnut chuffed at him in response. “Yeah, you wanna get outta this ol’ pen, dontchya? You want to feel the dirt under your feet again, amiright?”

  As he brushed, he thought about what he’d said to Bonnie, and it hit him. He’d said he could eat her food every night for the rest of his life.

  The rest of his life.

  Panic seized him and stilled his hand. It was a figure of speech! He hadn’t meant it! She had to know he wasn’t going to be around forever. That was their understanding, and the whole thing had been her idea from the beginning!

  He couldn’t deny he was attracted to Bonnie, and he’d almost kissed her in town, but he wasn’t the marrying kind. A man like him would never settle down. He was too busy being a drifter. Or he had been, before Walt tricked him.

  The sound of boots scuffing dirt outside the barn drew his attention away from his panicked thoughts. He peered over the stall door, praying Walt would walk in so he could jump the conniving bully like a roadrunner on a rattler. But it was Nate’s head that popped around the corner.

  “Evenin’, brother,” Nate said as he ambled in. “Heard some shootin’ over here earlier. Thought maybe that smart wife of yours finally wised up and shot ya, but here you are.”

  Bart grimaced. “Naw, I was just teachin’ her to shoot. She needs to know how to protect herself when I’m gone on safari.”

  Nate blinked at him. “Safari? You ain’t fixin’ to leave again, are ya? It’s only been a week, Bart. I thought things were going good ’twixt you two. You always seem thicker than thieves.”

  Bart resisted the urge to scratch his ankle. His brothers knew the signs when he was ready to hightail it out of there, and he didn’t want a lecture. “Things are jest fine, Nate. I’m just sayin’…a woman needs to know how to handle a gun out here, is all.”

  Nate scratched his head and looked a little irritated. “How’d she take to it?”

  Bart had to chuckle. Bonnie Blue was a natural. “Like a duck to water, brother. That’s the way she is with pert-near everything.”

  “Well, next time give us a little warning, would ya? I was trying to teach Libby to ride and the gunshots spooked poor ol’ Jack. Nearly sent my poor wife flying, but she managed to hang on. Not sure if’n I’ll get her near a horse again anytime soon, though.”

  “Sorry, Nate. I shoulda thought o’ that.”

  His brother shrugged, dug his toe in the dirt and fell silent for a few minutes. That wasn’t strange between them. Being quiet with his brothers was the most comfortable thing in the world to Bart. To all of them.

  “Well, I best get back,” Nate finally said, but he gave Bart a stern look before leaving. “I got two things to say to you first, brother. One, you’re a grown man now and ain’t nobody can make you do nothin’ you don’t want, deep down. Two, you got yerself a fine woman there. Don’t be stupid.”

  Bart could only gape after him.

  Chapter 16

  Bonnie woke up in a fine mood the next morning. Tomorrow she planned to teach her sisters to sew, and they’d kindly offered to make curtains for her home their first project. She’d been so touched by the gesture because it was probably the first time they both made an effort to help her, instead of the other way around.

  She’d always loved her sisters, but all too often it was because she had to. They were her sisters, after all. But this trip had somehow brought them closer than ever, and in her morning prayer, she gave extra thanks for that.

  As she performed her morning ablutions, she thought on Bart’s words the night before. “I could eat your taters every day for the rest of my life,” he’d said.

  Was he trying to tell her he wasn’t going to leave in a year’s time after all? That he wanted to make things between them more permanent? She was almost certain he’d been about to kiss her in town, plus he seemed to genuinely like her. Then again, maybe he was just being nice and complimenting her on her potatoes.

  She’d come up with a clever way to bring it up again but he didn’t come back from the barn before it was time for her to go to bed. No matter, they could always talk about it over breakfast.

  Licking a finger, she smoothed a stray hair back into place and regarded her appearance in the small hand mirror she bought in town. Her color was higher than normal, which gave her pretty pink cheeks. After lightly chewing on her lips, they looked full and rosy. Every button was done and her skirts were smooth. This was as good as it got, so she might as well see if Bart was up.

  As usual, the cabin was dark when she stepped out of her room. Bart never woke up until she had coffee and breakfast on the stove. She didn’t even bother trying to be quiet anymore because the man could sleep through a tornado.

  She lit the new lamp she bought on her shopping trip. It was going to be a treat to have two lamps to light the kitchen this morning. Bart had kindly filled all three lamps she brought home, plus the one in her bedroom, the night before. That increasingly familiar warmth filled her chest, and she glanced over to his sleeping form and smiled.

  Her smile faltered. What…? The cabin was small, but the oil lamps only threw so much light, and in the flickering darkness, she wasn’t sure what she was looking at. It was off to the side of where Bart usually slept, and didn’t look much like a sleeping man.

  Stepping closer, she could see that Bart wasn’t there at all. His bedroll was gone, too. The bulk she saw in the shadows was a big pile of chopped wood, with a piece of paper on top fluttering around under a piece of kindling.

  Cold
sunk in to her belly as she reached for it. Her shaking hand made it impossible to read so she moved over to the table. She had a sudden urge to sit down anyway.

  Spreading the note flat on the table and setting the lamp next to it, she started to read.

  Bonnie Blue,

  By the time you read this, me and Roamer will be off on another safari. We should only be gone a few days, a week at the outside, and I feel strongly that you can handle anything that comes along. That shotgun will keep the worst of what’s out here at bay, and now you have a fully stocked larder so you ain’t going hungry. Hope you don’t mind but I took the leftover meat and bread. Wish I could have took your taters, too, but they’d make a mess of my saddlebag. I cut up this wood for you so you wouldn’t have to. If you run out, just ask Nate or Walt to cut some more. My brothers are used to my safaris but you can tell your sisters I’m off on business, if you want.

  Kind Regards,

  Bart Dalton

  The final words grew blurry and it wasn’t until a drop splattered on ‘Kind Regards’ that Bonnie realized she had tears in her eyes. Fiercely wiping them away, she chided herself for being silly.

  “No need to be scared, Bonnie,” she mumbled as she went back to the kitchen. “You’ll be just fine. You know how to shoot and hitch the wagon and feed yourself. There’s nothing at all to be afraid of.”

  Then why was she trembling?

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Bart breathed deeply as the sun crested over the prairie. This is where he belonged. Not cooped up in some little shack, working a ranch. He was a drifter, proud and free. Nothing would ever change that.

  He kept Roamer’s pace slow and easy, not wanting to further aggravate his hoof. Over the last week or so — had it only been that long? — Bart had only let the handsome chestnut walk around the corral for a little exercise. After a day or two, he was no longer favoring that leg and started snorting to be allowed to get busy.