The Convenient Mail Order Bride

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  “When you need to preserve the fur, you can’t afford those kind of moments.” He let out a heavy sigh. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t go back and undo the damage. I’ll save what I can and do better next time.”

  She bit her lower lip, so she wouldn’t remind him this wasn’t the end of the world. Abe was surprisingly hard on himself when he didn’t perform a task up to his standards. She’d never come across someone who demanded perfection of himself before. Just what was she supposed to say to him?

  Maybe she wasn’t supposed to say anything. Maybe she was better off leaving him alone. Abe seemed like the kind of man who’d rather be alone when he was upset.

  She returned to the house, and her mother asked, “What did he say about the curtains?”

  It was then Phoebe remembered why she’d gone out there to talk to him. She debated going back out, but considering what happened with the coyote, she thought better of it. Since her mother was still looking at her expectantly, Phoebe said, “I don’t know. We’ll just have to take our chances that the curtains are alright. He caught a coyote, and he’s too busy to talk.”

  Her mother nodded. “Let’s hang up the other curtains in our bedroom.”

  Glad her mother didn’t press the issue, she gathered the light green curtains and followed her mother to the bedroom.

  ***

  It wasn’t until Abe settled in his bed for the night that he noticed the curtains. Eyebrows furrowed, he studied them, noting the way they blocked the moonlight from streaming in through the window. Since when did he have curtains? He was sure he hadn’t had them last night.

  Then he remembered his conversation with Phoebe earlier that day when she found him at the trap. She’d mentioned something about curtains. But she’d chosen to put curtains in his room, and this signified something important. He was sure of it. A woman didn’t put curtains in a man’s room unless she was planning to make this her room, too.

  His gut tightened. She had no intention of leaving. Even after going into town and seeing firsthand how little people thought of her because of her association with him, she planned to marry him. He didn’t understand her at all. What kind of woman wanted this kind of life? Did she really enjoy knowing there were scraps of metal around the cabin and barn? Did she honestly think once Benny and Enoch were out of jail, things would be as quiet as they were now?

  Yes, she probably did. She probably assumed because Eric Johnson put them in jail, that was the end of it. But it wasn’t. Enoch might go to the saloon and end up too drunk to care, but Benny wasn’t so forgiving. Abe should have known better than to believe Benny wouldn’t let any harm come to Phoebe because she was white. He should have realized his association with Phoebe would make Benny think less of her. Well, that was an error in judgment he wouldn’t make again.

  If she’d get on the stagecoach when it came, it’d make things so much easier. But those curtains told him what he feared most. Soon, it wouldn’t just be him he’d have to defend. There would be two women he’d be responsible for. His uncle had thought he could protect him and his mother, and he’d paid for that mistake with his life.

  Just the reminder brought an image of Gene Carter’s sneer to mind. He’d put the rifle over his shoulder right after killing his uncle and turned to Abe, who’d been ten at the time. “Let that be a lesson to you, half-breed. You don’t give us what we want, and you’ll pay for it.” Then he’d gone into the cabin and forced himself upon Abe’s mother.

  Gritting his teeth, Abe stared at the ceiling, once again wishing he knew where Gene lived. But the man lived like a vagabond, only popping up in town once in a while, and it seemed Abe missed him each time. There was a day of reckoning. Abe could feel it in his gut. He’d known it since that night he was ten. Somehow, someway, he knew there was a day coming when the tables would be turned, and he’d be the one pointing the rifle at Gene.

  Sometimes, it was the only thing that got him through the day. He owed it to his uncle and his mother. He owed it to every Cherokee who’d suffered at the hand of the white men because they thought the Cherokee were beneath them.

  Abe’s gaze went back to the curtains. Curse it! He didn’t like this. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit he liked having those curtains there. But if Phoebe and her mother stayed, it left him vulnerable, and he didn’t like being vulnerable.

  He hated Carl Richie for putting him in this position. Carl knew exactly what he was doing. Carl had been hoping for this, had hoped Abe would like having her around. But Abe couldn’t give in. Giving in would be the worst thing he could do. He had to remember what happened to his uncle and his mother. It hadn’t ended well for either of them. He had to stay strong. He couldn’t allow himself to be vulnerable. Ever.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “We’re going to town?” Phoebe asked Abe the next morning as everyone was having breakfast.

  “I need to take care of something, and I can’t leave you two here,” Abe replied, glancing between Phoebe and her mother. “I’ll leave you with Eric. You’ll be in good hands.”

  She glanced at the eggs on her fork before directing her gaze back to him. “What do you need to take care of?”

  He’d expected her to ask that question, which was why he already had an answer. “I’m going to have a talk with Carl.”

  She dropped her fork on the plate. Jerking, she hurried to gather the portion of eggs that had landed on the table. Once it was back on her plate, she turned to him. “Why are you going to see Carl?”

  “Because I have a point to make.” When her eyebrows furrowed and she opened her mouth to ask him another question, he quickly added, “He needs to know I’m not going to give up on that stream and twenty acres. My uncle was here before Carl’s family came to this land. Carl brought you out here in hopes I’d let it go, but I’m not. I’m going to keep fighting for it.”

  He almost didn’t tell them the last part, but he figured they had a right to know what had prompted Carl to bring them out here.

  He wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin and set it on his plate. “Thank you for the wonderful meal. I’m going to finish my chores. Then I’ll bring the wagon over here. We’ll leave in about an hour.”

  He stood up, fully expecting that to be the end of the discussion, but Phoebe followed him as he left the house. “Is that what Benny meant when he said I was a distraction?”

  Surprised by the question, he stopped as he went down the last step of the porch and turned in her direction. She closed the distance between them until she was in front of him, an expectant look on her face.

  “When I went to the general store, Benny said Carl brought me here to be a distraction,” she continued. “Is this about the stream and land?”

  As much as Abe hated to be so blunt, he didn’t see what good hiding the truth would be. And who knew? Maybe she had to know. Maybe it’d speak some sense into her so she wouldn’t waste the rest of her life with him.

  “Yes, you are supposed to be a distraction,” he said. “Carl brought you out here for his own benefit. He wasn’t thinking of what was best for you. He was thinking of what was best for him. And what’s best for him is if he keeps his claim to that property.” He pointed toward it. “That’s what men like Carl do. They take what they want, and when someone fights to keep it, they set up obstacles to prevent him from keeping it.”

  Her cheeks grew red, and he could tell by the look in her eyes that this news hurt her. But what was he supposed to do? Lie and tell her Carl’s motives were good? Men like Carl weren’t good. The worst mistake anyone could make was in trusting his kind.

  “Phoebe,” he began, his voice taking on a gentler tone, “you belong where men don’t use people as pawns. Your association with me isn’t in your favor. You saw what happened with Enoch and Benny. And now you can see why Carl brought you here. This isn’t the kind of place a good person belongs.”

  “You’re here, and you’re good.”

  “I didn’t choose to be here. I was born
here. My grandparents were forced off their farm in Georgia because of the gold. My uncle was thirteen at the time, and my mother had just been born. My uncle and mother had three other siblings, one brother and two sisters. My uncle was the oldest and my mother was the youngest.

  “He told me about how the white men forced them off their land in 1838 and put them into camps while they waited to find out what to do with them. During this time, conditions were so bad only my grandfather, my uncle, and my mother survived. My grandfather’s brother was one of the Cherokees who signed the treaty to remove us from our land. The Cherokees found out what his brother did and killed him for betraying his people.

  “My grandfather feared for the safety of my uncle and mother because of their association with his brother and fled north. My grandfather got sick and died along the way. It was my uncle, who was only fourteen by then, who found this land and built a home for himself and my mother.

  “I don’t belong with the white man, and I don’t belong with the Cherokee. This land is all I have, and I will fight to the death to keep it. That’s what this whole thing is about. It’s about Carl getting his hands on gold that might or might not be in the stream. People die for gold, Phoebe. I had aunts, an uncle, and grandparents I never knew because of it. Do you honestly think I want to lose you over it, too? You need to get on the stagecoach when it comes. It’s your best chance of happiness in this life.”

  Phoebe didn’t seem like she knew how to respond to that, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d just given her so much information there was no way she could adequately process it all at once. She needed time to think over it. And he was sure once she did, she would understand leaving was the best course for her to take.

  “I’ll see to it you and your mother return to Ohio,” he said. “Then the next time you answer a mail-order bride ad, make sure you’re going to a place big enough where if this happens again, you have plenty of bachelors to choose from who can provide you with a good life.”

  Deciding he’d said enough, Abe went to the barn. He spent the next hour doing the rest of the morning chores before he hitched the horses up to his wagon. By the time he brought the wagon to the front of the cabin, Phoebe and her mother were waiting for him.

  He couldn’t be sure what Phoebe was thinking. Her expression didn’t show any emotion. But he did experience a tinge of regret as he held her hand to help her up. This was ridiculous. He should be glad. She would be getting out of here. She’d have a better future elsewhere.

  Reminding himself of this, he turned back to help her mother. To his surprise, her mother said, “You give Carl what’s coming to him,” and then hopped up onto the wagon.

  He wasn’t sure if Phoebe had told her everything he’d said but decided it didn’t matter. The important thing was they weren’t going to fight him. It’d be much too difficult if they refused to go into town and let Eric keep an eye on them.

  He tried not to pay attention to Phoebe, who sat between him and her mother. She couldn’t help how close she was sitting. There was, after all, only so much room on the seat. But just as he’d been aware of how nice and soft she was the day he took them to Travis’ place, he was as much aware of her today.

  He gripped the reins. He was going to give Carl what was coming to him.

  As he hoped, Eric was in the jailhouse and was willing to watch Phoebe and her mother.

  “Make sure they don’t give Phoebe or her mother any trouble,” Abe whispered to Eric, nodding toward Benny and Enoch, who were sitting in their cells.

  Eric assured him he’d keep Phoebe and her mother in the small room where they would be safe from them.

  Thanking him, Abe left the jailhouse, not bothering to look at the men in the cell. It still burned him when he thought of the way they’d treated Phoebe. If either one of them made eye contact with him, he’d be likely to do something to make Eric lose faith in him.

  When he was back on the wagon and heading out toward Carl’s place, he was able to release his breath. He wasn’t even aware he’d been holding it. It was much easier to deal with things when he didn’t have someone to worry about.

  By the time he pulled his wagon up to Carl’s cabin, he heard some yelling. If he was right, Carl and his wife were arguing. Abe wasn’t privy to Carl’s private life. Nor did he care about it. His main concern was getting that stream and acreage. Making sure his gun was secure in the holster, he set the brake and got down from the wagon. Something shattered from inside the cabin, and Abe reconsidered talking to Carl.

  But then the door flung open, and Carl, who had his back turned to Abe, yelled, “You’re not so great either, Lydia! Go on back to the bottle. At least you sleep when you’re drunk.”

  Carl slammed the door and turned to head down the steps. He paused as soon as he saw Abe. His eyes grew wide, and he glanced back at the house where his wife was still yelling something about what a “no good excuse for a husband” he was.

  For a moment, Abe felt a little sorry for Carl. The gash on the side of Carl’s head was proof it’d been Lydia who’d thrown the object that had shattered, and blood was trickling down his cheek. But the sympathy only lasted a moment. Who knew what Carl had done to deserve the injury?

  Abe crossed the distance to him, opting not to put his hand on the revolver at his side. Carl wasn’t armed, and that being the case, he didn’t pose a threat. “I’m taking that stream and twenty acres,” Abe told Carl, not bothering to wait for him to speak. “The judge is due here in three weeks, and he’s going to force you to give it back to me. You sending for Phoebe isn’t going to change anything.”

  Carl didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out the handkerchief. He wiped the blood from the side of his face. “I need that property, Abe.”

  “I need it more. More than that, my uncle was here first, and he claimed it. It’s mine.”

  “You got a well that never dries out, and it’s closer to your cabin.”

  “That’s not the point. You look at that stream, and all you think about is how much gold’s in there.”

  Carl rolled his eyes. “Not this again.”

  When Carl walked around him, Abe followed him to the barn. “If you’re so tired of hearing me, give me what’s rightfully mine, and I’ll go away.”

  “Your ma signed the stream over to Pa to do what he saw fit with it, and he gave it to me in the will. Not you.”

  “My mother lost her wits after my uncle died, and your father took advantage of that. You know it wasn’t a fair deal.”

  As they entered the barn, Carl turned to face him. “He was your father, too. Whether we like it or not, we’re related. I don’t like what Pa did any more than you do. Your mother didn’t lose her wits. She knew what she was doing. She let him into her bed knowing full well he was a married man.”

  “She had no choice,” Abe snapped. “You white men come in and take everything you want without asking. What was she supposed to do? Say no and let him rape or kill her?”

  Carl let out a bitter laugh and wiped more blood from his face. “Rape her? He didn’t rape her. He loved her. It wasn’t easy growing up knowing he’d rather be with your mother instead of mine, and it wasn’t easy growing up in your shadow.” He pointed to Abe’s wagon, his expression dark. “That property is the one good thing Pa gave me, and I’m keeping it.”

  “No, you’re not!”

  Carl shoved him, and Abe fell onto his back. But Abe quickly rose to his feet and lunged for Carl. Carl grunted and landed on a pile of hay he’d gathered to feed his horses. Before Carl had time to get up, Abe grabbed him by the collar.

  “You can’t imagine all the hardships my family went through to come here. And my uncle died protecting that land and my mother. All you white men do is steal whatever you want. But I’m not letting you use that property to satisfy your greed.”

  Carl swung at him, but Abe lifted his arm and blocked the punch. With a grunt, Carl swept his leg under Abe. Abe failed to react f
ast enough and tripped, pulling Carl with him so that both landed on the floor. Carl pushed Abe away and scrambled to his feet.

  “Greed?” Carl spat. “You want to talk about greed? You and your mother stole my pa from me and my ma.” This time he managed to punch Abe.

  Ignoring the sting of pain in his jaw, Abe swung back, his fist landing right on Carl’s nose. He was about to get in another punch when a bullet fired through the air.

  Both men stopped fighting and looked at the entrance of the barn. Lydia held a rifle up to her eye, and Abe couldn’t tell if she was aiming it at him or Carl.

  “Both of you stop acting like children and get up,” she said, the breeze blowing her disheveled red hair around her face.

  Abe shoved Carl back onto the floor then stood up. When he noticed she was aiming the gun at him, he walked up to her and stopped, giving her a clear shot. “If you’re going to shoot, get it over with.”

  To his surprise, she lowered the gun and laughed. “Why would I do that? You make my husband miserable.”

  Abe glanced back at Carl, who hadn’t bothered to get up from the floor. Instead, Carl refused to look at either one of them as he wiped his bloody nose. He knew Carl didn’t have a good marriage, but until today, he’d underestimated just how bad things were between him and his wife.

  “Get on out of here,” Lydia told him, gesturing to his wagon.

  Under normal circumstances, Abe would have pressed the issue about the stream and land, but given what he’d learned, something in him lost heart. He was going to get the property back. There was no denying that. But he couldn’t bring himself to keep up the fight right now.

  “Fine,” Abe finally replied. “I’m going.”

  Then, without another look at either Carl or his wife, Abe headed for his wagon.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “No, I’m not going to ask her to speak to you,” Phoebe heard Eric tell Enoch from the other room.