The Convenient Mail Order Bride

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  “Dig a hole big enough to put this trap in.” He lifted the trap and set it down in front of her to show her how big it should be. “After you dig it, you’ll set the trap then put it in the hole. After that, you’ll cover it up with the leaves and dirt you dug up.”

  That sounded simple enough. Moving aside the trap, she dug the hole, careful to put the dirt, leaves and small twigs to the side for easy access. When she was done, she put the trowel down and peered up at him.

  “Are you going to show me how to set the trap, or do I need to figure that out myself?” she asked.

  “I’ll tell you what to do,” he replied. “You have to be careful with these things. One wrong move could leave you with a broken finger or thumb.”

  She snickered. “You’re trying to scare me.”

  “No, I’m not.” He picked up the trap. “This is the free jaw.” He lifted one of the jaws and moved it back and forth. “It’s the part that catches the animal and holds it in place. The other jaw is fixed.” He pointed to the other one. “It doesn’t move. This is how you set the trap.”

  She watched as he snapped the free jaw in place. Then, making sure his fingers weren’t in the way, he released the trap. She jumped when it snapped shut.

  “That’s why you have to be careful,” he said. “If you make the wrong move, you could hurt yourself. Think you got the idea, or should I show you again?”

  “I think I can do it.” She took it from him and repeated the process, surprised it was as easy as it looked. Once she set it in the hole, she couldn’t resist teasing him. “At what point am I supposed to get squeamish and run for the next stagecoach?”

  As she’d hoped, the corner of his lip turned up. He, however, forced the stern expression back on his face. “Just wait until you have to get the animal out and skin it. That’s when things get tough.” He nodded toward the pile of dirt and leaves. “Go on and hide the trap.”

  She proceeded to do so, taking care to keep the trap set. When she was done, she got up and gathered the blanket and trowel. “Are you going to teach me how to shoot a gun?”

  “I said I would, and I will.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want you to wiggle your way out of our deal.”

  “I stay true to my word. I do not practice the ways of the white man.”

  “Well, I’m going to show you a white woman can, and will, keep her word. You’ll be surprised, Abe. I just know it.”

  “I can tell you’re determined, but there’s a difference between being determined and being able to do the work.”

  “That’s why you’ll be surprised. You’re going to learn you can’t put limits on me.”

  “Were you this stubborn in Ohio?”

  “No, but then I didn’t need to be. As you pointed out, life out here will be hard. In order to stay, I have to be willing to do whatever it takes to survive. I’m not afraid of doing any of it. I just need to learn what I need to do.”

  She caught the spark of respect in his eyes but chose not to comment. Even if Abe didn’t say it, she sensed he was glad she was as determined as she was to stick around. He hadn’t protested all that hard when she moved into his bedroom, and those curtains were still hanging up. If he really didn’t want her there, he would have protested harder.

  Nope. She suspected the truth was, he was hoping she would prove him wrong. And she would. The only question was, how long was it going to take for her to do it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After a light lunch, Abe took Phoebe to the barn and handed her a revolver. Phoebe frowned as she turned the gun over in her hands.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, checking to make sure there were enough bullets in the sack.

  “I thought it’d be bigger,” she said. She gestured to the gun rack on the wall. “Like that one.”

  His gaze went to the rifle before he looked back at her. “It’s not the size of the gun that matters. It’s how well you handle what you got.”

  She didn’t seem all that pleased with what he said but continued to examine it.

  “It’ll be better for you to learn on a smaller gun,” he assured her. “When you first shoot, you’ll probably jerk back a little. Better to do that with the Colt than a rifle.”

  “But I thought you didn’t want to make things easy for me,” she said.

  He wouldn’t have laughed, except her eyebrows were raised in a challenge. Once he managed to settle the urge to chuckle, he told her, “It’s a matter of convenience. If you wish to start with the larger gun, by all means, do so.”

  She drummed her fingers on the gun, and he could tell she was weighing the pros and cons of getting the rifle. In the end, good sense won out when she said, “Alright. I’ll use this one. I might be eager to learn, but I don’t want to be foolish about it.”

  “When you realize those things aren’t as easy as they look, you’ll be glad you started small.”

  From there, he led her out of the barn and down a ways from the cabin where he had set up targets. He put up a couple of bottles along the posts of an old fence his uncle had set up.

  He went back over to her. “Don’t expect to hit your target on the first try. You have six shots until you need more bullets, so you might as well start practicing. But first, you need to know how to stand. Spread your feet apart like this.”

  He demonstrated by setting his feet about twelve inches apart.

  “Do they have to be exactly that far apart?” she asked.

  “As far apart as you’re comfortable with. I don’t think this,” he spread his legs as far apart as they would go, “would be comfortable.” Noting her laughter, he added, “And you might even fall.” He got back into a comfortable stance. “Just whatever’s comfortable is fine.”

  “Alright.” She spread her legs apart, her long skirt swirling around her boots. “Do I start shooting?”

  “Not yet. Hold onto the gun with both hands, and lift it up so it’s about eye level. Keep your arms and wrists firm. There’s going to be a kickback when you fire, so keeping your arms and wrists firm will help buffer you from it,” he added, figuring she’d want to know why. She was, after all, curious by nature.

  She glanced his way.

  It took him a moment to understand she was asking if there was anything else she needed to know before she started shooting. “Shoot whenever you’re ready,” he said.

  With a nod, she turned her focus back to the bottle directly in front of her. She took a deep breath then released it. He expected her to fire the gun, but she hesitated. He hid his smile. She was so intent on doing a good job on her first try. Yep, she was a lot like his uncle. His uncle would have liked her. She might be white, but she has the heart of a Cherokee, his uncle would have said.

  Abe forced the thought aside. He couldn’t be distracted. She’d asked him to teach her how to shoot a gun, and since she’d graciously set the trap that morning, he would fulfill his part of the deal.

  She finally pulled the trigger. As he’d expected, she missed the bottle. What he hadn’t expected, however, was the fact that she let out a surprised shriek.

  She rubbed her wrists and shook her arms. “I didn’t think that’d happen. Does the gun always push back when you shoot?”

  “What did you think I meant when I told you there would be a kickback?”

  After a moment, she shrugged. “I’d never heard the term before, so I didn’t know. I figured I’d experience it for myself when the time came.”

  “Well, you did experience it.”

  She blinked, as if she didn’t expect his answer. Then she laughed. “Yes, I suppose I did. Is there anything else I should expect?”

  “I think that’s it, but if you actually hit one of those bottles today, I’ll be shocked.”

  “How long will you let me try?”

  “Until you’re bored or until your ma rings the dinner bell. One thing we’ll be doing, though, is filling the chamber of that gun with more bullets. A shooting match does you no good if you can’t load up
an empty gun.”

  She gasped, her eyes growing wide. “You have gunfights out here?”

  “This is the West. Anything goes. It’s why I’m pushing so hard for you to get out of here. Find a good, civilized place and live a peaceful life.”

  For a brief moment, he thought his warning was finally getting through to her. But then that spark flashed in her eyes and she straightened her posture, as if daring anyone to come right out of the trees and start shooting her right here on the spot.

  “I can do it,” she said. “A woman can fire a gun just as well as a man can, and I’ll be one of the best shots in this territory.”

  Then, without another word, she positioned herself as he’d taught and fired off five bullets back to back. She didn’t hit any of the bottles, but maybe that hadn’t been her point. Her point might just have been to show him she was going to keep shooting as long as she had bullets left.

  She turned to him and gestured to his bag. “Are you going to show me how to load the gun?”

  Even if he found her actions a bit hasty, he couldn’t help but admire her willpower. Yes, his uncle would have loved having her out here. He’d probably even lock her and Abe in the bedroom until Abe got the consummation of their marriage over with. But since his uncle wasn’t here, there was no threat of that happening.

  Though, would it really be so bad? Just get it over with and enjoy the feel of her soft body against him? Experience the joy of a kiss? Get to share a moment with her he’d never share with anyone else?

  Snapping out of his thoughts, he opened the sack. He’d be better off tending to the lesson. He took the gun from her and showed her how to open the chamber and slip in the bullets. After he was done, he spun the chamber and handed it back to her.

  “Think you can do it next time?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she replied. “It wasn’t all that complicated.” She took the gun, her fingers brushing his.

  He didn’t know whether to be irritated or excited. Did she do it on purpose? And if she had, would he have enjoyed it even more?

  This time when she fired the gun, she didn’t rush to fire the next bullet. She furrowed her eyebrows and concentrated on her aim. She waited for a few seconds, tracing her lower lip with her tongue, and then pulled the trigger. To his surprise, the bullet brushed the edge of the bottle, making it teeter for a moment before it settled back in place.

  Phoebe let out a cheer and jumped up and down. “I did it! I did it!”

  Since she was so excited, he didn’t have the heart to tell her it didn’t count unless she hit the bottle head on. For a first time with a gun, she did well, and he’d let her have her victory.

  “Can you believe it?” she asked him, her smile growing wider. “I bet you didn’t think I could do it.”

  “Not so soon,” he consented.

  “Well, you just wait. I proved you wrong here, and I’ll prove you wrong when I catch the animal in my trap.”

  “Tapping a bottle and skinning an animal are two different things.”

  “But I’ll do it. You’ll see.”

  She turned her attention back to the bottle and resumed her lesson, and deep down, he couldn’t deny the small part of him that hoped she was right.

  ***

  “It took me an hour, but I finally got that bottle off the post,” Phoebe told her mother during their meal that evening. “I bet Abe didn’t think I’d get it done on my first day, but I did.”

  “To be fair,” Abe interrupted as he buttered his roll, “you hadn’t shot a gun before. I don’t think your expectations were any higher than mine.”

  She paused and thought over his statement. He was right. She hadn’t expected to hit the bottle on her first day of shooting, either. Inspired, she said, “That just goes to show I’m meant to be here since it came so easy.”

  He cocked his eyebrow but didn’t argue with her.

  Her mother looked up from her mashed potatoes and met her gaze. “Was it scary to shoot a gun?”

  “A little,” Phoebe admitted, almost hating to say it right in front of Abe. “But,” and she hoped Abe would remember this part, “it got easier the more I did it.”

  Her mother nodded. “That’s to be expected, I suppose. Anything new can be intimidating.” She glanced at Abe and smiled. “It’s a lot different out here than it was in Cincinnati.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Abe replied after he swallowed the roll.

  “We checked the trap I set earlier today,” Phoebe said, deciding it might not be best to let him dwell on how different things were. Or, at the very least, get him to start persuading her mother to leave. “So far, the trap is empty, but maybe there’ll be something there tomorrow. Then I’ll learn how to get us meat to put in stews or fry up in a skillet.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened. “Why, you weren’t joking when you said you were going to learn how to do everything Abe does.” She winked at Abe. “I thought she was exaggerating. I thought maybe she’d learn how to shoot a gun and tend the garden. I didn’t think catching animals would be a part of it.”

  Abe shot Phoebe a pointed look. “There’s also mucking out stalls, cleaning the horses and cow, gathering eggs—”

  “And repairing the barn roof when there’s a hole in it,” Phoebe finished for him.

  “Oh good heavens,” her mother said with a chuckle. “He doesn’t expect you to do all that. There are things women do and things men do. I can see gathering food if you need to. Given what happened that day in town, I can even see learning how to shoot a gun. But cleaning stalls and animals or fixing a roof are things he’ll be doing.”

  “I can do them as well as he can,” Phoebe argued.

  “How are you going to have time to take care of the home and cook if you’re doing all those other chores?” her mother asked, picking up a cup. “There’s only so many hours in a day. Marriage is a partnership. The two work together, but they have their own tasks to do.” She took a sip then chuckled. “Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me he’ll start sewing clothes.”

  Abe grimaced at the idea, and Phoebe chuckled under her breath. Maybe she should challenge him for a change. See if he could make a new shirt. But she didn’t have the heart. Besides, he had some valid reasons to be concerned about her. This was a harsher environment than the one she’d been used to in Ohio. She had to learn how to fend for herself, just in case it came to that. And she would. Before the year was up, she had no doubt she’d be fully capable of doing everything he could.

  She turned her attention back to her mother. “When I get good at shooting, I’ll teach you how to do it.”

  Her mother coughed on the food she’d been swallowing. Just as Phoebe was ready to get up and pat her back, her mother was back to normal. She took a drink of her coffee and shook her head. “Did I hear you right? You expect me to shoot a gun?”

  “Why not?” Phoebe asked. “It’s not a bad idea.”

  “Well, I,” her mother paused then continued, “I’m old.”

  “You’re not too old to do this. Besides, you came all the way out here with me. Shooting a gun isn’t as hard as sitting in a train or getting tossed about a stagecoach for days on end.”

  “Tossed about?” Abe asked.

  Phoebe nodded. “We thought we were going to bump the ceiling when we hit the ruts in the road.”

  “Thankfully, we were blessed with sturdy stomachs,” her mother added. “The driver told us about a woman who couldn’t stop throwing up for days.” She shivered. “We were relieved we didn’t have to share it with her. The man and wife we were with for most of the trip also had healthy constitutions.”

  “Yes, we did luck out,” Phoebe agreed.

  “I wouldn’t want to take a child on such a trip,” her mother said. “It’s hard enough on adults.”

  “Which is why we’re staying right where we are.” Phoebe glanced at Abe then, and she wasn’t surprised when he lifted his gaze heavenward. “Besides, we both like it here, don’t we, Ma?”

>   “We do. Abe, you’ve been very kind to us. Thank you.”

  Abe turned his gaze to Phoebe, so Phoebe offered him her most charming smile.

  She thought she caught a flicker of pleasure as he shook his head at her, but his expression quickly went neutral. Abe had a way of being able to mask his feelings. She was quickly learning she had to pay attention to his face right away after she said or did something to gauge what he was trying to hide. And she was sure she saw that little spark of pleasure. So sure, in fact, she’d stake her life on it. With a smile, she got up to give everyone a slice of pie.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next day after finding nothing in the animal trap, Abe figured he might as well show Phoebe how to maintain the garden. The task was simple enough. All she had to do was pull some weeds and get rid of insects that could harm the growing plants. It wasn’t quite the task that would have her running off for a stagecoach, but it was part of living out here so she might as well get familiar with it.

  As she was watering the plants, he heard the scraps of metal clinking together. Without hesitation, he bolted for the barn. He shouldn’t have let his guard down. He should’ve remembered it was important to carry a gun at all times. Phoebe was far too distracting.

  He grabbed the Colt and hurried out of the barn. He would have peeked out the window had Phoebe not been standing out there in plain sight for anyone to see. By the time he made it to the garden, he saw old lady Lois bringing her well-used buggy up the path to their house.

  Relaxing, he set the gun at his side.

  “Do you usually have dangerous people coming out here during the day?” Phoebe asked, coming over to him.

  “No.” He slipped the gun into his back pocket. “But you can’t be too careful.”

  “Lois and my mother got along really well the other day in town,” Phoebe said, smiling as the old lady continued leading the horse up the property. “It’s nice Ma finally has someone her own age to talk to.”