Mail Order Beau

by Maya Stirling

  Logan looked earnestly at her. She realized it was later than she'd thought. Outside, the darkness had fallen. He looked like he was plucking up the courage to ask something, but couldn't get the words out. Martha decided to help him: "What are you thinking about?" she asked him teasingly.

  Logan ran a hand through his thick hair and was obviously trying to contain his discomfort.

  "Would you like to see the rest of the house?"

  Martha looked at him and frowned. "I thought I had already seen the house."

  "Not every room," he said quietly, emphasizing the second word.

  Martha suddenly understood, and she felt her face flush. What could she say? She wasn't going to be able to delay things any longer.

  "I'd like to see the other rooms," she said, nodding quickly.

  Logan seemed relieved. "The rooms are upstairs," he said, pointing the way.

  Martha composed herself, and wondered why he was being so awkward about this. It surely wasn't that difficult to finish off the tour of the house, even it was going to be the room which she had no doubt would be the cause of awkwardness between them.

  Martha followed Logan up the narrow stairs to the upper floor. There was a short corridor which led to a door. Logan stopped outside the door. He seemed awkward and unsure of himself in a way which was surprising, and at the same time endearing.

  Behind that door was the bedroom she had been trying not to think of. It wasn't through any lack of desire to be with Logan. It was just that she didn't know how to think of what it meant. As she waited for him to open the door, she had the thought that everything was moving too fast. Too fast!

  Only a few short days before she had thought she had no prospects of marriage whatsoever. Now, here she was, standing before the marital bedroom in the ranch owned by the former beau she had married that day. It was all too fast, and she felt it like a tumbling sensation in her body.

  Logan had asked her if she loved him. She had tried to answer, but couldn't. At least not to Logan's satisfaction. That had hurt him, and she was sorry for that. She had to be honest about how she felt.

  Logan pushed the bedroom door open and Martha peered inside, unsure what she would find. Her eyes rested on a treasure store of beautiful objects. It was the most beautiful bedroom she had ever seen; all the more amazing since it wasn't located inside a stately Eastern mansion, but a ranch in the wilds of Wyoming.

  "Oh Logan. It's beautiful," she said lifting a hand to her mouth.

  The room was elegantly furnished, with chest of drawers, leather sofa, a huge double bed and a mirrored dressing table. There were two large dark, wooden wardrobes.

  Logan motioned for her to enter. She stepped into the room. The floral patterned carpet was soft beneath her feet. The whole room had a cozy, welcoming feel to it. Given the spartan conditions she had been sleeping in, sharing a room with Rachel, this was luxurious in the extreme.

  Martha stood in the center of the room and surveyed it. Logan seemed genuinely pleased that she liked it, his face glowing with a warm smile.

  The door closed and Martha felt a sudden sense of being in the room alone with Logan. It was as if the rest of the world had disappeared and they were the only couple in the world.

  Martha felt a tightening in her shoulders. She forced a smile. "It's so nice. Where did you get these things?" she asked, her mind desperate to create a distraction, needing to defer the moment she knew was inevitable.

  Logan stepped closer to her. In his shirt and pants he looked taller than she had noticed before. There was a glow about his skin, darkened by days in the sun. Here in the bedroom the color looked even more pronounced. To Martha it seemed curiously attractive amongst the domestic setting of this bedroom.

  Logan placed a hand on her shoulder. He brushed some stray hairs away from her face with his other hand and gazed into her eyes. Martha placed a hand on his chest, feeling the heat there, and the vibration of his thudding heart.

  "Martha. You are beautiful," he whispered, leaning in closer.

  Martha closed her eyes and listened to the sound of their breathing. They both seemed to be breathing in perfect unison. She felt a tightness in her throat, and found that she couldn't utter a single word. She had to say something, but she didn't know how she could say it. She knew how it would affect him if she said it, and she didn't want to hurt him. Not really.

  Logan leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead. Her face nestled at his throat and she inhaled his scent. Her heart beat even faster, but she knew she would have to say the words to him.

  He wrapped his arms around her and enveloped her, enclosing her in a protective embrace that she didn't want to escape from. She drew in a deep breath and sighed, feeling her eyes begin to moisten. She would have to tell him. Before he went any further; before she reached a point beyond which it would be impossible to turn back.

  She felt his hand on her head, and he was stroking her hair, gently, reverently. He slowly leaned her head and back and made to kiss her.

  Martha raised her fingers and touched them to his lips. Logan halted, and his eyes narrowed, then softened. He didn't say anything and neither did Martha. She couldn't find the words, but the truth was, she didn't have to. Logan knew what she meant. He hadn't forgotten the words she'd spoken on the bench, and neither had she.

  Their eyes met, and the unspoken request was made. Logan's face fell, and he stepped back, nodding slowly. His hands slid from her shoulders and fell disconsolately to his side. When she saw his reaction Martha felt an unexpected stab of pain inside.

  "I understand," he said quietly, and it was as if he had thrust a dagger into her side. He saw her reaction and his eyes narrowed, a mixture of confusion and pain in them. For a moment it looked as if he would come to her again, but she turned away from him.

  When she looked back, it was to watch him walk out the door and close it softly behind him. She had never felt more confused in her life. However, what disturbed her even more was that, deep down, there was also a sense of relief at what had happened. Or rather, at what had not taken place.

  Martha sat down on the bed, savoring the softness of the ornately patterned quilt. Suddenly the bed seemed like the only place where she could find solace, so she lay down, and within moments was fast asleep.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The next morning she awoke in a new bed, in a new house and with no-one next to her. She reached over and rubbed the undisturbed pillow, thinking of the previous night. How could it have turned out so badly? Why had she done what she'd done? She couldn't figure it out at all. Her decision to deny him seemed to have come from a very dark place inside herself; a place she hadn't known existed.

  Oh Martha, she thought. What are you doing?

  She got dressed as quickly as she could. The early morning sun was bright when she looked out the window. Below, there was a bustle of activity. Men, some of whom she recognized from yesterday's wedding, were going about their business; they obviously believed in early starts on the ranch.

  She was surprised to see the case containing the small amount of her things outside the bedroom door. She figured Logan must have brought it during the night; or it might have been Mrs. Proudie. The ache from the previous night burned in her heart, but she pushed it down and decided to get on with the day.

  When she was ready, she went downstairs for her first day as the lady of the ranch. It sounded so strange when she thought of it like that.

  She went to the kitchen and found Mrs.Proudie busy making a breakfast. It smelled good, and Martha realized she was more hungry than she had thought she was.

  Mrs. Proudie turned when Martha entered the kitchen. She fixed Martha with a wide grin.

  "Good morning Mrs. Crawford."

  Martha stopped in her tracks when she heard herself addressed like that. It would take some getting used to.

  "Good morning Mrs. Proudie," she answered. "It's a fine looking day."

  "It sure is a lovely day. The perfect kind of day for
you to start your new life, my dear."

  "Can I help you with anything?" Martha asked.

  "Not at all. You take a seat right there. I'm going to serve you up a breakfast fit for the new lady of the house."

  Martha took a seat at the table. She wondered where Logan was.

  "Has Logan had breakfast?" she asked Mrs. Proudie.

  Mrs. Proudie nodded sagely. "You obviously don't know your husband's early rising habits."

  "I take it he's already out at work," Martha said.

  "He sure is. Like every morning. I have never known a man like him who can get up with the dawn. It's a good habit. Sets the tone for the rest of the ranch hands."

  Martha tried to shake the sleep from her head. She was looking forward to the coffee she could smell. She had to admit to a certain disappointment that Logan hadn't waited around for her, so that they could share their first morning breakfast. She wasn't surprised after the events of last night.

  She had woken a few times in the night, disturbed by the strangeness of the new house, and the unfamiliar noises. She had lain in the bed, in the dark. If she had been asked, she would have admitted that she had been hoping for his return. She regretted being so harsh with him; for that was how it seemed to her on reflection. She had been harsh to him, and he didn't really deserve such treatment, especially from a new wife.

  Martha hoped that Mrs. Proudie didn't know what had happened; but she guessed that there wasn't much that went on in the house, or on the ranch that Mrs. Proudie didn't know about.

  Mrs. Proudie came over to the table and laid out a plate filled with bacon, fried potatoes and beans. Martha looked at it and swallowed. With this inside her she would have enough energy to last the entire day. She took the cup of coffee from Mrs. Proudie and took a long drink of it. She put the cup down.

  "How long have you known Mr. Crawford?" Martha asked.

  Mrs. Proudie looked up at the ceiling. "Let me see. My Josh died three years ago this month. So that would make it two years. I started working for your dear husband in Colorado, By the time I knew him he was well established."

  Martha rolled her eyes. She was always putting her foot in it. "I'm sorry about your husband," she said.

  Mrs. Proudie went back to the stove. "It's no matter my dear. It was such a long time ago. He was a dear man. I did love him so. However, the Lord won't be denied," she said.

  "How long were you married?"

  "Thirty wonderful and glorious years. I have to be thankful for that."

  Martha wondered what it must be like to be married to someone for thirty years. "He must have been a fine man. Did you two have any children?"

  Mrs. Proudie came to the table and sat down. She shook her head slowly. Martha could see the pain in the woman's eyes, and immediately regretted asking the question. Obviously it was too early for Martha to have any sense in her head.

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked such a question," Martha said apologetically.

  "Don't bother your head, Martha. I may call you Martha?"

  "Of course. And what should I call you?" Martha asked.

  "Well, my parents in their infinite wisdom named me Sybil. But that is a name which I have never really settled with. I prefer my late husband's name. Out of respect to him. Mrs. Proudie will do fine."

  "Mrs. Proudie it is then,"Martha agreed.

  "What are your plans for your first day on the ranch?" Mrs. Proudie asked.

  Martha took a moment to consider. "I'll have to arrange to have the remainder of my things brought over from my sister's place."

  "A young woman can't be without her essentials for too long, can she?" said Mrs. Proudie with a wink.

  Martha laughed and tucked in to her breakfast. Mrs. Proudie was proving to be a friendly type. Martha could see that if she was going to have any chance of getting off to a good start on the ranch then it would be Mrs. Proudie who would guide Martha in the right direction.

  Mrs. Proudie had referred to Logan as the master. Martha wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. Perhaps it was simply Mrs. Proudie's old fashioned way of deferring to Logan. One thing was sure, Martha wouldn't be calling her husband "master" any time soon.

  "Did Logan say where I could find him, if I needed to?"

  Mrs. Proudie put down her coffee. "He said he has arranged a tour for you of the whole spread after breakfast, or any time you're ready. You can ride a horse, can't you?"

  Martha nodded. "I've learned a few things in my time out here. My sister's husband taught me. I can hold my own, but I'm no expert rider."

  "That's good. There are parts around here where a buckboard is just no use. If you're going to be a rancher's wife, you'd best get used to being on horseback."

  After the breakfast Martha went outside. The early morning air was cool. She went over to the corral where there were two ranch hands struggling to control an ornery horse who just wouldn't settle. Martha leaned on the wooden fencing and watched the two ranchers at work.

  The horse was straining on the leash which was attached to him. It was clear to Martha that the animal was irritated and cranky. The horse pulled and stretched, trying to free itself of the restraint. It blew out noisy bursts of air and made testy noises of disapproval.

  "Good morning, Mrs Crawford ," said a voice behind her. Martha turned to find Mr. Brook looking past her at the spectacle of the horse being worked by the men. "She's quite a sight isn't she?" he asked.

  Martha nodded. "Yes, she is. But she's obviously not happy being tied up."

  "She'll come around. It'll take time. These men know what they are doing," Mr. Brook said.

  The horse whinnied, and raised his forelegs up, showing dust covered hooves. The men stepped back and tugged on the restraints.

  "Is this the only way to do this?" Martha asked.

  "I'm afraid it is. It's pretty routine in these parts. The horse will be fine," he said.

  The only horses she had ever been near were ones that had already been tamed and broken. Ethan had taught her to ride after she had arrived in Sweetheart Falls. She wasn't the best rider, but she could ride reasonably well, provided she was on a good horse. It was one of the accomplishments she was most proud of since arriving in the area. Back East, she had ridden, but only side saddle, and on horses that were used to a slower more gentile kind of riding, in town parks and country lanes. Like so much, everything out in Wyoming was harder and more perilous.

  "How are you settling in?" he asked.

  "Everything is very nice," she answered, determined to keep things polite. She really didn't know Mr. Brook that well.

  "What exactly do you do yourself around here?" she asked.

  Mr. Brook smiled. "I do just about everything. Anything Logan asks me to do, I go and do it. Simple as that. Being a foreman means there is nothing I don't get involved in," he said.

  "Including being a matchmaker?"

  Mr. Brook nodded. "That was a special favor," he said, speaking slowly. "I don't exactly have the skills for that. However, given the circumstances, I was happy to help." He smiled. "Seems to have turned out fine," he concluded, raising his eyebrows, and giving her a look.

  Martha started to walk away from the corral and Mr. Brook followed by her side. "Do you have a wife of your own?" she asked.

  She noticed that, for the briefest moment, his brow furrowed. Then he regained his composure. "My life on the ranch kinda makes that difficult. I'm so busy, I'm not sure I could work here and keep a wife happy at the same time," he said.

  "I'm sure there has been some young lady who has taken your fancy," Martha teased.

  Mr. Brook shook his head. "I rise at five and put my head on the pillow before midnight. There's just no time," he said, but his tone was hesitant, tentative.

  Martha got the impression that there was more behind that answer. Before she got a chance to press him further, she saw Logan coming on horseback toward the ranch-house. Mr. Brook went to him and started to speak with Logan. Leaning down it seemed to Martha that Logan
was having stern words with Mr. Brook. She couldn't hear what was being said, but she could tell that it wasn't exactly friendly. Mr. Brook nodded and kept his lips tight shut. Then Logan dismissed him with a wave of the hand.

  Mr. Brook headed off, and Logan got down off his horse and came to her. He was dressed in jeans and stripped shirt, both of which clung tightly to his wiry frame. His hat was tipped back on his head.

  After the previous night she wasn't sure how he'd react. He was smiling as he strode toward her, but there was a hesitancy in his eyes that she didn't like to see, especially on this, their first day together as man and wife.

  He placed gentle hands on her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his face, product of his early morning exertions. She wondered where he had been, and what he had done that had made him work so hard.

  "Good morning Martha," he whispered. "How is my beautiful new wife?" he growled. She looked up into his eyes. They glowed with pleasure at seeing her. Martha searched, but found no hint of displeasure.

  "Good morning, Logan," Martha said smiling up at him. She was genuinely pleased to see him. It wouldn't have been good to have gone much longer this morning without at least knowing where he was.

  "I came to get you," he stated firmly.

  Martha was taken aback by the way he said the words. "To get me?" she asked.

  "Of course. I'm not going to miss a single moment on our first day as a wedded couple," he said.

  She pushed at his chest, eager to play along with his teasing statement. "I would expect not!" she joked.

  He wrapped his arms around her and drew her tight against him. She wondered if the men in the corral would be watching. Logan didn't seem to care.

  "I have so much to show you," he said. "I'd like to take you around the ranch and show you just what we have here."

  "What we have?" she asked.

  "Yes. What is ours. This land belongs to us both and I want you to know every inch of it."