A soft coo had her turning toward the bed, where two sets of tiny eyes stared at her. Walking to the bed, she sat down and waited until both coons were on her lap. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m just used to having my sister to talk to. Oh, Maggie, where are you when I need you?”
Sighing, she shook her head. “What am I saying? Maggie is the one likely to become smitten. Not me. She’s in town attending parties and dancing and singing and...” A tingle crept up her spine so slowly she quivered. “Oh, goodness. What if that happened? What would I do if Maggie becomes smitten by some fellow?”
Chapter Thirteen
Becoming un-smitten, if there was such a thing, was much harder than becoming smitten. Especially when the man one was smitten by was Steve. He hadn’t done anything different, or changed in any way. Yet ever since the night they’d danced—more than a week ago now—every time Mary looked at him, an intense warmth pooled in the lowest region of her torso, and whenever he touched her, just an accidental brush to her arm, a strong desire had her wanting to be held by him. Kissed by him—again and again and again.
She tried ignoring him, but that was difficult living in the same house. Still it shouldn’t be this hard. She’d ignored Maggie and the other women on the train rather easily, and that space had been much smaller. Furthermore, he was gone most of the day—which filled her with longing.
Mary sighed and turned away from the window. Spying Spit trying to climb up a chair made her shake her head.
That was the other thing that had become extremely hard. Attempting to make Spit and Spat live in the barn. They escaped every type of enclosure she put them in, and as soon as one of the house doors opened, they shot inside. Steve told her she might as well give up until they became a bit older. At some point they’d realize she isn’t their mother and want to be set free.
She wasn’t overly fond of that idea. Of them wanting to be set free. That was bound to happen—sooner than later. She’d started to hate bedtime, only because it meant another day was over. Soon the thirty days Steve had hired her to cook would be over and she’d have to leave. It would be better for Spit and Spat to be gradually separated from her than for her to just be gone one day.
“I put the wire up you asked me to,” Rex said as he entered the back door. “But it’s not going to keep those two in. I agree with Steve. You should just let them think you’re their momma for a bit longer.”
“They are twice as big as they were when we got them,” she pointed out. “And twice as hard to contain. I can’t have them jumping on the counters.”
“Then smack their noses,” Rex said.
“I will not.”
“That’s how their momma teaches them.”
“Well, I’m not their momma,” she said, holding Spit in one hand while chasing Spat around the chair. Finally catching him, she carried them both to the door. Upon opening it, she muttered, “Oh, fairy dust.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I hope that isn’t Dr. Graham walking up the driveway. He just left less than an hour ago.” The doctor was nice enough, but she still worried he’d learn about the tonic. He hadn’t made mention of it, so she hoped that meant he hadn’t discovered Maggie had any, either.
“That’s not Dr. Graham,” Rex said. “Stay here. I’ll see who it is.”
The man turned out to be William Stockholm. His wagon had lost a wheel a few miles away, and upon hearing he’d left his wife and children there, Mary, with Rex’s help, hitched up a wagon. She also filled a basket with molasses cookies and buttermilk.
By the time they arrived at the wagon, Steve and Walter were there, having seen the billowing canvas of the covered wagon while rounding up cattle.
Steve suggested she should take William’s wife, Loraine, and the two children, three-year-old Stella and five-year-old Emil, to the house. Said the rest of them would follow once they got the wheel fixed well enough to make it that far. Rex offered to drive them back, but Mary said she’d manage. She’d been driving a wagon since she was old enough to handle the reins. Plus she could tell Rex wanted to stay with the men. She’d seen that more and more from him. He may have been Steve’s cook, but it wasn’t what he liked doing. Especially now that he no longer had to use the crutch.
With the children in the back, munching on cookies and drinking buttermilk, she and Loraine chatted as they made their way along the roadway. Mary was thankful for that. It kept her mind off how Steve had held onto her sides longer than necessary after lifting her out of the wagon when she and Rex had arrived. It had been as if he hadn’t wanted to let her go.
“Oh, my goodness,” Loraine said as they pulled into the ranch. “Your home is beautiful.”
“Yes, it is,” Mary answered honestly. “I love it.”
“I would, too.”
Mary parked the wagon and unhitched the horse before inviting the others inside. She warned them about Spit and Spat, just so no one would be afraid when the coons met them at the door as they did anyone walking into the house.
“They’ve never bitten anyone,” Mary added, “but they have very sharp teeth and have never been around children so please be careful.”
The children nodded and were soon giggling while watching Spit and Spat chase after the rag balls she’d made for them to play with.
“Goodness, it’s been so long since I was inside a house and sat at a real table, I don’t know what to say,” Loraine said.
“You’ve been traveling a long time?” Mary asked while setting a pot of coffee on the stove.
“It feels like forever,” Loraine said. “We’ve settled a few places since we left Missouri two years ago, but never for long. Luck hasn’t been with us. No water, too much water, Indians, someone else’s land. It’s always been something. William’s sister lives up in Nebraska. We’re headed there now.”
Loraine’s words made Mary pause while taking cups out of the cupboard and close her eyes for a moment. She’d been in Loraine’s shoes. That was how it had been with Da. There had always been a reason for them to move on. She and Maggie had probably looked a lot like Stella and Emil. Dirty with ragged clothes, and in awe of some of the houses they’d stopped to seek help from just like the Stockholms were doing right now.
Some folks had been kind, others not so much. Back then, she used to imagine she’d have a fine house someday, and would help others whenever they needed it. That had come true today, and being able to help felt as wonderful as she’d imagined it would, all those years ago. Knowing Steve had already offered to provide them with whatever they needed filled her with pride she’d never known.
“Well,” she said upon opening her eyes and taking down the cups. “Staying here for a few days will do you all some good. While the men get your wagon fixed properly, we’ll get your laundry caught up and your food baskets packed full again. Then you can start your journey north fresh and ready to go.”
She turned to carry the cups to the table, and the tears streaming down Loraine’s face had her blinking back a few of her own.
“Thank you,” Loraine whispered. “Just thank you.”
* * *
The Stockholm family spent three days at the ranch, and though Steve assured them there was plenty of room in the house, they insisted upon sleeping in their wagon, saying he was already providing them with far more than they could ever repay. Pride at how kind and generous he was filled Mary continuously. Her heart seemed to double in size every time she looked at him.
On the morning they were set to leave, with the wagon fixed, clothes and bedding washed and their food baskets overstuffed, Mary stood next to Steve as William helped Loraine climb onto the seat and then climbed up himself.
“Remember,” Steve said, “if Nebraska doesn’t work out, there’s a job here if you want it.”
“I’ll
remember,” William said. “If my sister wasn’t expecting us...” He shook his head. “Thank you for everything. You’ve been a true blessing to us.”
“It was our pleasure,” Steve said.
Mary blinked against the sting in her eyes as she once again said goodbye. Steve wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side as the wagon wheels started to roll. Mary waved, but didn’t trust her voice not to crack. Especially with Steve’s arm around her.
“They’ll be fine,” he said, rubbing her arm.
She nodded.
“Really, they’ll be fine.”
“I know,” she said as the wagon rounded the barn and started up the road. “I just remember what it’s like to be them.” She turned to look at the house. “I’d forgotten, or maybe I didn’t want to remember, but I do now, and it’s hard. Very hard.”
Steve folded his arms around her and held her, hugged her, which was comforting and heartbreaking at the same time. She didn’t want to live like that ever again, yet it could very well become her life again within a few short days.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for being so kind to them. So generous.”
“You’re welcome, but I would have done it for any family traveling past and in need.”
“I know you would have,” she said, lifting her head to look at him. The urge that overcame her was too strong to fight, so she gave in to it. Stretching on her toes, she kissed him. Not on the cheek, but the lips, and then whispered again, “I know you would have.”
* * *
Steve had to dig his heels into the packed ground. The desire to kiss her that lived inside him had grown considerably the past few days, especially when it came to watching her with the Stockholm children. At times, he’d found himself imagining them having children. Her and him.
But he couldn’t kiss her. Not again. This time he might not be able to stop. Clearing his throat, he said, “William left his sister’s name. I’ll send a telegram in a month, make sure they made it.”
She nodded, and the sadness in her eyes reminded him she may not be here in a month. Might very well be married to someone else, maybe Nelson Graham, who had stopped by again yesterday and proclaimed Rex’s leg was completely healed.
There was less than a week left of her stay here, and Steve had no idea what he could do about it. Should do about it.
He had half a mind to ask her to marry him right now, but therein lay the problem. Only half his mind was working. It was only thinking about what he wanted. Not what she wanted, or what was best for her. Practically every time he’d come across her and Loraine talking, Mary was saying something about her sister Maggie. How she hadn’t seen her in weeks and missed her terribly. That was how it always would be. There were times he didn’t go into Oak Grove for a couple months or more.
Furthermore, the graves not far away were a constant reminder of what living out here did to women and children. Families as a whole.
She stepped out of his arms and clapped her hands. “Well, we both have work to do, and standing here isn’t getting it done.” Stepping around him, she added, “I’ll see you for the noon meal.”
Chapter Fourteen
Steve did see her for the noon meal that day, and the evening, and breakfast the next morning. And the next... He was counting down those meals like a captured outlaw counts the days before the hangman arrives. The cowboys all knew her thirty days were almost up, too. No one asked what he was going to do about it, but they shared their opinions of not looking forward to Rex cooking for them again.
He could have told them Rex’s meals weren’t that bad, but a man got used to what he had and until he had something to compare it with, never really knew if what he had was good or bad.
Rex’s cooking had been dismal compared to Mary’s, and whether he wanted to admit or not, Steve couldn’t deny his life before Mary didn’t hold a candle to what it had been since she arrived.
His heart thudded as he glanced toward the house while stopping his horse near the barn, where he’d fetch a new rope. The one looped around his saddle horn could have sufficed for the rest of the day, but knowing her days here were nearly done, he found any excuse he could to ride to the homestead at different points throughout the day.
About to push open the barn door, Steve stopped, turned around and then started walking toward the house, following a sound. The caterwauling was Rex, but it was more off tune than normal.
Steve rounded the house and then the corner of the woodshed that had a back wall and roof, leaving the other three sides open. Rex, sitting upon the short front row of logs, took a long swig off a jar and then started singing again.
“Me’s gonna marry a lass named Mary in the merry month of May. Yes, me’s gonna—”
“What the—?” Steve grabbed the half-empty jar out of Rex’s hand.
Grinning as his head wobbled to the tune he continued humming, Rex waved. “Hi, Steve. Try it.” After a hiccup, he added, “It tastes like you’re drinking apple pie.”
The jar smelled of apples and cinnamon, and alcohol. “You’re drunk,” Steve needlessly pointed out.
“Maybe.”
“Where did you get this?”
Rex gestured toward the back wall of the shed. “There’s more if you want some.”
* * *
Having seen Steve ride in the yard, Mary had hurried to put on a pot of coffee and then gone outside to let him know it would be ready soon. She cherished his afternoon visits, where the two of them sat and talked.
Her excitement waned and then completely disappeared as she saw him pulling jars and bottles out from behind the stacks of wood.
Rex, sitting atop the first row of wood, waved at her, and then started singing, “Me’s gonna marry a lass named Mary—”
“Shut up,” Steve barked.
Flinching at his shout, or possibly his glare as he pulled out two crocks, one empty, the other full, Mary considered heading back to the house. She’d wished more than once that she hadn’t mixed up that second batch, but not as strongly as she did right now.
“I thought you got rid of this,” Steve said.
“I—I got rid of it in the bedroom,” she answered.
“You—”
Suddenly, her guilt turned to anger. “What? It’s better than that bottle of whiskey in the kitchen cupboard.”
“There are times that’s needed.” He held out both crocks. “But this is nothing but snake oil and not good for anything except getting a man drunk.”
“It’s not snake oil,” she insisted. “It’s medicinal tonic.” Stepping forward, she grabbed a couple of bottles off the ground. “It helped Rex—”
“It helped him get drunk!” Steve shouted. “That’s exactly what can’t happen on a ranch, especially during roundup. Men have to have all their senses about them, day in and day out. Dump that out!”
“No.” She set the bottles she’d gathered a few feet away from him and went back to move more. Dumping it out couldn’t happen. She and Maggie wouldn’t have any to sell. “I need it,” she said.
“Why?”
“If you must know, I’m going to sell it.”
“Sell—”
“Steve—”
“Shut up, Rex,” Steve said, before continuing, “Selling it is why you went to jail in Ohio!”
“Mary—”
Ignoring Rex, she said, “No, I went to jail because I didn’t have a permit to sell it.”
“One of you!”
“What?” both she and Steve shouted to Rex at the same time.
“There’s a rattler!”
Mary’s eyes shot to the ground near Steve’s boots, where the snake, coiled and shaking its pointed tail, was lifting its head. Without thought of the contents of the canning jar in her hand,
she pitched it at the snake, then spun to grab the ax from the chopping block. As the jar hit its target, knocking the snake to the ground, she swung the ax over her shoulder and down toward the snake.
The shot that sounded made her scream, but the ax still met her target.
The ax handle was still in her hands when Steve grabbed her waist and pulled her backwards. She let go of the ax, but watched the snake, making sure it was only its body that was twisting and coiling. The head was motionless, unlike her. The idea that Steve had been so close to being bitten had her trembling, and the gunshot echoing in her ears had her shaking her head.
“Are you all right?” Steve asked as he spun her around.
“Of course I’m all right. You were the one about to get bit.” She pressed a hand to one ear, and due to the ringing shouted, “Why’d you shoot your gun?”
“I shot the snake.”
“Why? I was already chopping its head off.”
“That was a rattlesnake.”
“I know what kind of snake it was.” They were both yelling. “Did you want to get bit?”
“No! That’s why I shot it!” Tightening his hold on her arms, he said, “And could have shot you!”
The ringing in her ears had stopped and she let out a sigh, “Oh, for—”
“She wasted a whole jar of apple pie making sure you didn’t get bit.” Rex sounded forlorn, even with his words slurred and hiccupping.
Mary felt forlorn, too, not because of the wasted tonic, but because she’d disappointed Steve and angered him. Two things she hadn’t wanted to do.
“Get a shovel and bury that snake,” Steve said to Rex. As Rex climbed off the wood pile—albeit a bit wobbly—Steve turned to her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
The concern in his eyes made her bow her head. “I’m fine.”
“Why? Why is this stuff so important to you?”
Mary glanced to the crocks, both broken now. The hopelessness inside her grew a bit deeper. “It’s all I’ve ever known,” she whispered. “The only way I’ve ever known to make money.”
Mail-Order Brides of Oak Grove Page 11