Fiery Bride

by Cynthia Woolf

I’m thinking to start an office here in Golden. Would you be amenable to becoming a full time employee and handling the office there in New York City? We can discuss the particulars at a later date after you’ve had a chance to think it over and discuss it with Henry.

  Please write me as soon as you get confirmation from Miss Jones that she is willing to come out here. There is no guarantee that she will marry the client here, but if that be the case, then I will find another husband for her and get her lodgings until that time.

  Sincerely,

  Margaret

  Satisfied with the letter, she let it dry then put it in an envelope she’d already addressed. Saturday was a long way off but in the scheme of things she supposed it didn’t matter. It would be three weeks before Miss Jones could be here anyway so an extra day or two didn’t make a difference.

  Maggie sat back and contemplated her next course of action. She had to continue the work on the ranch, but she also needed to start her new business in Golden. There were lots of ranchers and miners who wanted and desperately needed wives and many women desperate to start a new life.

  She wouldn’t be able to look for space to rent or anything else until Saturday. It would take nearly all of the fifty dollars she had with her to get another place going. Maybe Caleb was right and for now she should work out of the house to save money. She would be there anyway, might as well take advantage of the situation. After his contract was resolved, she’d look for new lodgings for both herself and her business.

  First, she needed to write an advertisement. She glanced at the clock on the corner of Caleb’s desk. No, first she needed to find out where Francesca was. Maggie had asked one of Caleb’s cowboys to fetch her and she should arrive at any time.

  She went out to the front porch and looked down the long driveway to the main road. She saw a buckboard traveling slowly up the driveway. Good. Caleb was in for a surprise. Not only would there be good food on the table but the cook was a feast for the eyes. As they pulled up, Maggie noticed a lone horse and rider behind the buckboard. Martin Butler.

  She waited until both the buckboard and Martin had drawn to a stop in front of the house.

  “What are you doing here, Mr. Butler? How did you find me?” asked Maggie.

  “I followed you yesterday until I saw where you were going. Today, I saw that cook woman pack up and get in this here wagon. I ’membered you talkin’ to her yesterday and took a chance and follered her. Guess the chance paid off.”

  “Well, you can just turn around and leave. You’re not wanted here. Our contract was fulfilled. You got the bride you contracted for. The fact that she left after seeing you is your fault and your problem, not mine. If you had been honest to begin with, we could have found you a bride that would have been more agreeable.”

  “If I wanted a floozy for a wife, I could have married one a long time ago.”

  “You stop disrespecting Mrs. Selby,” shouted the gray haired woman seated next to Francesca on the buckboard bench.

  “Now, Mama, it is not our place to interfere.”

  “Tsk. Shame on you. It is always our place to say something to protect our employer.”

  “You just keep your trap shut, you ole biddy,” said Martin to the woman, using his legs and his reins to try to steady his horse who pranced around because of all the shouting.

  “You will not speak to me like that, you vecchia poiana.”

  “What’d you call me? That weren’t no English.”

  “That Mr. Smart Joe was Italian. And I call you, how you say, an old buzzard.” The little woman smiled from ear to ear.

  “Mama, please,” pleaded Francesca as her mother climbed down off the wagon and marched over to Martin Butler’s side.

  The woman poked Martin several times in the thigh with her finger, punctuating each word she said. “You. Will. Apologize.”

  “I won’t. You ole cow,” said Martin, eyes only for the small woman poking him. He grabbed her hand and held it.

  “Then you will leave. Now.” Maria stamped her foot, finally, pulled her hand away and pointed the way he’d come.

  “He will leave now, whether he apologizes or not,” said Maggie. She didn’t miss the interaction between Francesca’s mother and Martin. Though they shouted at each other, they never took their eyes off each other either. There was an attraction there or Maggie would give up matchmaking.

  Caleb came around the corner of the house. “You listen to the ladies, Butler, and get off my property.”

  Martin finally looked up and directly at Caleb. “I’m leavin’ Black, but I’ll be back. Margaret Selby is gonna marry me and make things right or give me back my money.”

  Maggie came down off the porch and stood next to Mrs. Lamrona. “I’ll be doing neither. I fulfilled my part of the contract. You lied and voided the agreement.”

  “Get going, Butler. Now. Before I have my men commence to filling you with lead.”

  Maggie looked around her. On either side of the house were two men, four all together, each of them armed, guns drawn.

  “You’re not really going to kill him are you?” she whispered to Caleb.

  “If he doesn’t leave in the next thirty seconds, I’ll have him shot for trespassing. The sheriff won’t have any trouble seeing it my way since he’s on my property.” Caleb’s hand rested on the Colt revolver at his side.

  Martin turned his horse. “I’m leaving, but I’ll be back. I’ll get what’s coming to me.” He galloped down the driveway and onto the main road. Everyone stayed where they were until he was out of sight. Then it was a free for all, everyone talking at once.

  “You must be Francesca’s mother. I’m Maggie Selby,” she held her hand out.

  “Maria Lamrona,” said the little woman as she took Maggie’s offered hand and pumped it excitedly. “Thank you for giving this job to my Francesca. Getting out of the hotel is wonderful for us and the money, it is very generous. “

  “What do we have going on here, Maggie?” asked Caleb when he walked up to the three women. Francesca had climbed down and joined her mother and Maggie.

  “Caleb, this is Francesca Lamrona and her mother, Maria. Francesca is your new cook.” Maggie crossed her arms over her chest and dared him to nay say her.

  “Welcome, ladies.” He tipped his hat toward Francesca and her mother. “I’m sure Maggie will make you right at home.”

  Maggie looked at him and her jaw dropped. She’d expected an argument. Not his nonchalant acceptance of her decision.

  Caleb reached over and nudged her mouth closed. “You’ve really got to stop doing that. You’re going to start catching flies.” He smiled and walked back the way he’d come, whistling while he went.

  Maggie showed Francesca and her mother to the bedroom off the kitchen. “Here you go, ladies. I had the single beds moved in from one of the other bedrooms. I thought you’d be more comfortable than together in a double bed.”

  “That was very thoughtful of you. It’s lovely and please, call me Fran. Only my mother uses Francesca.”

  “There is nothing wrong with your name,” said Maria. “It is the name we gave you, your father and I, God rest his soul,” she crossed herself. “It is what I will always call you, not this Fran.”

  “Yes, Mama.” Fran rolled her eyes and sighed. “We are in America now. We should do things like Americans.”

  “Just because we are in America does not mean we should forget who we are,” said Maria, her Italian accent seeming particularly heavy with these words.

  Maggie didn’t want to get into the middle of this. “Well, I’ll leave you to unpack. Dinner is in three hours. Help yourself around the kitchen. You know as much about it as I do. I only arrived yesterday myself.”

  “You are not the missus?” asked Fran.

  “No. I’m a matchmaker. I was hired to find Mr. Black a wife and when that didn’t work out properly, I was trapped…er…offered to fill in until I find him the proper bride.”

  Fran’s eyes lit up. “Mr. Blac
k is not married and looks for a wife? He is very handsome.”

  Maggie shrugged. “Yes, I suppose if you like that rugged type.”

  * * *

  Maggie took the buckets of hot water and put one beside each basin on the long table on the porch. Then she stepped over to the huge triangle and ran the metal rod around the inside of it. The din was nearly overwhelming but there was no doubt everyone heard it.

  Rachel and her father showed up first followed closely by the rest of the men. They all politely waited until Rachel had gone into the kitchen before they got too boisterous. Then they started laughing, pushing each other, telling jokes and generally acting like men. Maggie had begun to wonder if any of them were rowdy but apparently they were, just not around Rachel. Although she would bet Rachel could cuss with the best of them. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t hide who they were from her completely. After all, they were men. She remembered from her own days growing up on the farm exactly how colorful their language could be.

  Francesca’s meal was wonderful and Maggie was glad she’d hired her.

  “Papa, can I go outside and play?”

  “Yes, you may.” He smiled at his daughter as she shot out the door, nearly knocking him over in the process. “Whoa, Pumpkin, slow down,” he called to her retreating form as she whizzed past.

  Maggie couldn’t help but laugh. “The girl is a whirlwind.”

  “That she is,” Caleb agreed. “Are you ready to see the rest of the ranch?”

  “I am.”

  Francesca walked over to them. “I did not mean to overhear but I would like to see the ranch as well, if that is alright. I need to know where things are so I can do my chores. Do you mind if I come with you?”

  “Not at all,” said Caleb. “How can I mind accompanying two beautiful women around my property?”

  “Mama, will you start on supper? We’ll have a stew with the meat in the icebox.”

  Her mother nodded and said, “You all go on. I’m fine here.”

  “Shall we?” Caleb held the door for both women and then when they were outside he put his elbows out for each of them to take an arm.

  “You’ve a lot of buildings here,” said Maggie as she put her arm through his.

  “No more than most ranches around here. There are eight buildings on the property. The house and barn, which you’re already familiar with.” He winked at her and she felt the blood rush to her face. “And then there’s the bunkhouse where the cowboys live. The chicken coop, ice house, pump house, the coal shed and last, there’s the foreman’s cabin on the south ranch which you can’t see from here.”

  “Well, if I’m going to start helping you around here, I guess I better find out where things are,” said Maggie.

  “Me, too,” Fran chimed in.

  As they crossed the yard, arm in arm, Caleb pointed out the pump house and the ice house. “The coal shed is around the corner on the back side of the house. You can’t miss it.”

  Fran nodded. “I’m sure I’ll find it when I need it.”

  “Next to the coal shed is the wood pile for the fireplaces. I also keep some wood on the porch off the kitchen and out of the weather.”

  “I noticed that,” said Maggie. “That’s a good idea. Do you get a lot of snow here?”

  “It snows pretty regular in the winter, but most of the time, it melts in the next few days. Occasionally, we’ll have a blizzard that’ll last a day or two and then the snow stays on the ground longer. But in general, the weather’s good. We get lots of sunshine, usually some every day.”

  They continued to walk and the chicken coop was the next structure they came to. Caleb led them inside. There were three rows of nests, one above the other, with eight nests per row. There was plenty of room to walk behind the rows.

  “Very nicely set up. It’ll make gathering the eggs much easier,” said Maggie.

  “That’s the idea. Normally, it’s Rachel’s job but I’ve been letting her sleep in. She’s been so excited about you…er…my new wife coming, it’s been hard for her to get to sleep.”

  Maggie looked at him and raised her eyebrow. “You told her about me?”

  He looked contrite. “Maybe a little.”

  She took a deep breath and calmed herself. “I’m not going to talk about this right now other than to tell you that you have to make sure that Rachel understands I won’t be staying. I don’t want her to be hurt.” Of all the people who could be hurt, it was Rachel that upset her the most. Maggie knew how much the little girl wanted a new mother and she didn’t want Caleb to get her hopes up that it would be Maggie.

  “I’ll make sure.”

  Cocking her head, Maggie eyed him.

  “Honest,” he said crossing his heart.

  “All right. Now I’m sure neither Fran nor I mind gathering the eggs, but if it’s Rachel’s chore then she should get back to it. I don’t want her to get into the habit of thinking we’ll be doing her chores for her.”

  “I know. I’ll give them back to her in a few days.”

  The last building before the barn was the bunkhouse. It was a large rectangular building about thirty feet long and at least half that wide.

  “This is the bunkhouse. You’re not responsible for the upkeep. The boys take care of their own needs. All you have to do is their laundry. Right now Thursdays are laundry days. Clara will be back tomorrow to show you what to do and to help this first time.”

  Just as they came to it the bunkhouse door opened and a tall, handsome, with sandy blond hair, man came out.

  “Ah, Tom. I see you’re back from the summer pasture. Ladies, this is Tom Weatherford, my foreman. This is Maggie Selby and our new cook, Francesca Lamrona.”

  “Mrs. Selby,” he said taking her hand, “pleased to finally meet you.”

  Maggie’s gaze shot to Caleb’s. “Just how many people did you tell about me?”

  “Not many,” he said with a smile.

  Tom moved in front of Fran and held out his hand. “Mrs. Lamrona.”

  “Miss and please, call me Fran.”

  “No. Fran is much too common a name for such a beautiful woman. Francesca is so much better.”

  Fran blushed prettily.

  Maggie watched the exchange between the two. “Well, hell,” she said to herself. Fran was clearly smitten with Tom and he with her. She’d seen it happen enough times to know that Fran was definitely out of the running as far as Caleb was concerned. She only had eyes for Tom now.

  Caleb watched the exchange between the two of them as well, with a self-satisfied smile on his face. “Tom, why don’t you show Fran the barn and corrals? Maybe she’d like to see our latest bunch of horses and the new colt, too.”

  Tom smiled broadly. “Yes, sir. Be happy to. Francesca,” he held his arm out to her.

  Maggie watched them go. “Pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” In actuality, she was relieved. She’d imagined Fran and Caleb in bed and it nearly killed her. She was jealous of someone he hadn’t even shown any interest in other than to be polite. What was the matter with her? This was her business. Finding brides for men was what she did. This time shouldn’t be, couldn’t be, any different, but it was. Caleb was different. She knew him. That was her first mistake. Coming out here had been another, but she couldn’t change it now. She’d just have to make the best of it.

  “As a matter of fact…,” he said with a smug smile on his face.

  A smile she wanted to wipe off. She swatted his arm. “Show me the rest and don’t think you’ve won. I still have other candidates.”

  Past the bunkhouse was the barn where she’d seen the kittens and the colt. She hadn’t paid much attention to it before, being too intent on finding Caleb. Now she saw that it was a big, red, two-story building with double doors and next to those a regular sized door. Once inside she saw fourteen stalls, seven on either side. At the end of the stalls on one side was a room for tack which he told her included saddles, bridles, extra reins and other items needed by the
cowboys to do their jobs. On the other side was a large stall with hay on one side and straw on the other.

  “I hope you’re not expecting me to clean the stalls because I won’t do it. You can do it or have someone else or it won’t get done.”

  He laughed. “Feisty this morning aren’t we. It’s called mucking and no, I don’t expect you to muck out the stalls. I do expect you or Fran to milk the cows. We have two. Bessie and Burt.”

  She burst out laughing. “Bessie and Burt?”

  He chuckled. “Rachel named them. She was four.”

  Dabbing at her eyes, tearing from laughter, she said, “I guess it can be forgiven then.”

  He moved closer to her, reached out and ran his finger tip along her jaw. “You have a beautiful laugh. I do like it when you laugh.” He leaned in to kiss her, “But I like it better when you don’t,” he said just before his lips claimed hers.

  Maggie was lost. Just like every other time he kissed her, she didn’t want it to end. Of their own volition, her arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled her body flush with his.

  He pulled away, enough to look down at her. “Ah, Maggie, what you do to me. Can you feel it?” He rubbed his erection on her. “All I have to do is look at you, hear your voice, see your smile and I’m ready. Let me love you, Maggie.” He started backing toward one of the empty stalls.

  Maggie let him lead her, her body aching for what he could give her. But then she stopped, realized what they were about to do, and pulled away.

  “No. Caleb, I don’t want this. Don’t want it this way.”

  He took a deep breath and dropped her hand. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You just do things to me…I haven’t felt this way for a long time.”

  “I know. Me, either. But this isn’t the way. For either of us. You’ll have a bride here in three weeks time or there about. And once you accept her, I’ll be leaving.”

  “Stay. Live here. Open an office here. There are lots of miners and cowboys that need wives.”

  She pulled away from him, putting space between their aching bodies. “I’m not marrying anyone ever again. I did that once. Never again.”

  He could have stopped her but he let her go. “Maggie, I’m not Edgar. Everything I said in my letters was…is…true.”