Once Upon a Mail Order Bride

by Linda Broday

  They browsed through the mercantile, and Ridge helped Bodie with clothes, while Addie picked up yarn and needles, a notebook, and enough heavy broadcloth in navy blue to make a riding skirt.

  “Nice to see you, Mrs. Steele.”

  She’d been in deep concentration, her attention on the bolts of fabric, and almost didn’t hear the soft voice at her side. A glance revealed the woman who’d sat beside her in church. No name came to her mind, though Addie remembered the older woman’s disheveled appearance.

  Ridge evidently noticed Addie’s predicament and came over. “Good morning, Eleanor. I trust you’re doing well.”

  “I am, Mr. Mayor. And you?”

  He met Addie’s gaze, and she felt her cheeks warm again. “It’s been an unbelievable morning.” His smile warmed his eyes, and Addie could see how happy her teetering steps had made him. He seemed very different from the somber man she’d married.

  Eleanor set a bag of sugar on the counter. “Mrs. Steele, I’ll visit soon.”

  Addie nodded and gave Eleanor a smile. Ridge provided the words, “Come anytime, ma’am. You’ll be welcome.”

  After Eleanor paid and left, Ridge spoke quietly in Addie’s ear. “I don’t know her full story, but I think she would like a friend.”

  Addie could be that. Everyone needed someone, and doing what she could for the woman would ease the quiet of the long days. Addie laid her knitting supplies and fabric on the pile Ridge had started and turned to go outside with Bodie. But as she walked toward the door, she spied exactly what she truly wanted—a pair of denim trousers like the ones Rebel had worn. They would be perfect for working in the garden or riding King.

  Ridge lifted an eyebrow and grinned when Addie laid them on their pile of purchases. Warmth stole up her neck at his reaction, but instead of snatching them back, she gave him a stubborn tilt of her head and stood her ground.

  He chuckled. “These too, Owen.”

  “You know, folks are snapping up those new Levi’s right and left. I can’t keep ’em in stock,” Owen Vaughn said. “It’s impossible to wear them out.”

  Addie wandered to the ladies’ boots as the men kept chatting. Part of her still worried about the cost, but the temptation to browse was too much. The boots looked to be very well made and the leather stitching quite remarkable. She glanced down at her ill-fitting shoes.

  “Hold on a minute, Owen, we may not be through.” Ridge came over to her. “What size do you wear?”

  Addie shook her head and tried to walk away, but Ridge would have none of it. “Oh no you don’t. What size?”

  She shrugged.

  “Sit down.”

  When she did, he pulled off her shoe, studied it for a moment, then reached for one of the boots and placed them sole to sole. He put that boot back and got another and did the same. “I think this might fit. Clay makes these, and you’ll find none better in all of Texas.” He knelt, and with his warm hands around her foot, slipped it into the buttery soft boot. “Stand up please.”

  She’d never worn anything so comfortable. The fine leather molded around her foot like it had been made especially for her. He pressed on the toe of the boot, and she wiggled her toes at him.

  “I think it’s a perfect fit. Let’s put the other on.”

  When he slipped the second one on, Addie sighed with delight. Her feet felt as though she walked on a cloud. She caught the question in Ridge’s eyes and nodded.

  “We’ll take these boots, Owen, and the lady will wear them.” Ridge picked up her pitiful shoes and, with what seemed like sheer glee, threw them into the trash barrel. Guilt took hold in Addie’s gut. Ridge had spent far too much money on her, and all at once. Her father’s voice grated in her ear. You’re not worth a new pair of shoes. These old worn ones of your mother’s are plenty good enough. Complain and you’ll go barefoot. If you’d been a boy—

  But she’d had the audacity to be a girl. She’d held her tongue and stuffed paper inside the toes of her mother’s old shoes. Over and over through the years, she’d held her tongue, itching to scream out how much she hated him. Held her tongue when he ordered her whipped. Chose to live in darkness to protect the child from him.

  “Do you see something else you like?” Ridge asked, startling her from her thoughts.

  She shook her head, guilt-wracked for even implying she might want more and hurried outside where Bodie waited. The kid rose from a bench and stuck the crutch under his arm.

  A wagon pulled up with some chickens in the bed and a cow tied on behind. The driver called out, “What do you want me to do with these, Steele?”

  “Can you follow me to my place? It’s not far.”

  “Lead the way.”

  Ridge helped Bodie into the back of the wagon and handed him their purchases, then handed Addie up into King’s saddle. Addie rode slowly around the cart, looking the cow over with a critical eye. It appeared to be a fine animal.

  Her gaze swept to Bodie, her real-life Oliver Twist. Then she shifted attention to Ridge, and her heart had an odd reaction she couldn’t describe. Such a high price on his head. Her throat tightened. One day, the law would come for him.

  How could he be bad when he did so much good? He rescued Bodie and gave him a place to live, made sure he had what he needed. And her. She glanced down at her shiny new boots and patted King’s neck. Then there was Ridge’s kiss at breakfast and going with her to Dr. Mary’s. He truly seemed to care that she regained her voice.

  The words he’d cried out in his sleep crossed her mind. He hadn’t done whatever they accused him of. Some girl had lied. Addie knew too much about lies and evil, false accusations and rotted souls.

  Addie turned her thoughts back to Bodie and Ridge and wouldn’t trade either one. They were her family now, and better in every way than the one that had thrown her onto the trash heap.

  It was time to cast aside her doubts. She needed no more proof.

  This was the only place she wanted to be. Next to Ridge. Watching his back. Sharing his life. Finding some way to be his wife.

  The day had yielded so many surprises, she could scarce recall them all. But the best of them was the visit to Dr. Mary’s and rising hope that she would find her voice.

  The minute her words returned, she’d thank Ridge for marrying her and giving her a new start.

  Ten

  Ridge got Bodie settled into a room in the barn that he’d built for a hired hand. The kid never stopped grinning, calling the place the best he’d ever had. How pitiful his life must’ve been to think the small room with bare boards and a menagerie of livestock on the other side of the wall was heaven.

  Then, eager to start earning his keep, Bodie began to hobble around and build a sturdy chicken coop.

  “I’m riding out for a bit. Keep an eye on things and don’t let anything happen to Addie.” Ridge laid a Winchester beside the kid’s chair. “For strangers if they come nosing around.”

  Bodie shook a long strand of hair from his face. “You can count on me, Mr…I mean, Ridge. I have a good aim and a steady finger.”

  Satisfied that Bodie could, and would, guard Addie, Ridge stuck his foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over. He rode to the creek where he’d encountered the bounty hunters.

  Jack had buried the man Ridge killed in an unmarked grave and scattered brush over it. But Ridge didn’t like the gnawing in his gut. He was being watched—the bounty hunter that Bodie called Hiram had to be lurking somewhere close.

  Faint tracks were still visible in the dirt, and Ridge followed a set that led away. In a ravine, he found signs that Hiram had stopped there to bind up his wound. Ridge picked up the tracks leading out the other side.

  Why hadn’t he looked for this earlier? Hiram might have stopped long enough that Ridge could have caught up with him. Ridge called himself every name he could think of. He’d missed a chance to end this. H
owever, in his defense, he’d had Bodie to get medical treatment for, not to mention protecting Addie. In the end, he decided he couldn’t have done anything differently. Best to let it go or it would eat at him.

  Hiram had traveled north, then doubled back, which told Ridge the bounty hunter’s wound hadn’t been that severe. Ridge lost the tracks outside the entrance to Hope’s Crossing. The road leading into town was little more than a wide path between the two walls of the canyon where the town sat. There was no other way in or out of town. Dammit! Had Hiram managed to sneak into town before they’d put a guard in place? Cussing a blue streak, Ridge dismounted and scoured the ground. Hundreds of tracks from people coming and going over the last day had obscured Hiram’s.

  A whinny reached Ridge and he glanced up to see his neighbor, Travis Lassiter, looking down on him from the back of his horse. He rested his arm on the pommel of his saddle. “Need some help, Ridge?”

  “I could at that.” Ridge explained quickly. “It’s important to find out where this two-bit bastard went from here—and if he’s still hanging around.”

  Travis swung from the horse. “Two pairs of eyes are better than one. I’ll help. Show me what the track looks like, and we’ll widen the circle until we pick it up again.”

  They searched painstakingly for over an hour, and Ridge was on the verge of giving up when he finally saw the tracks he was looking for. He and Travis followed the trail—a trail that led onto Ridge’s property and right up to the house.

  Ridge’s blood froze. The sign was unmistakable. Someone had hunkered down on the ground underneath the parlor window.

  Brown globs of tobacco spit revealed that the watcher had stayed there for some time.

  Dark foreboding crawled up Ridge’s neck. The man could’ve been watching Addie, here all alone. He’d have seen Ridge leave when Addie’s questions had become too hard to answer. Maybe the watcher had witnessed the kiss they’d shared that morning.

  Ridge struggled to breathe inside his tightening chest, his mouth drying.

  Even now, the bastard could have his silent wife in his sights.

  And she wouldn’t be able to scream.

  * * *

  Later that evening, a long, full day behind them, Ridge, Addie, and Bodie sat around the supper table. It felt comfortable, like they’d done it a million times before. Ridge’s gaze lingered on Addie. She’d made big strides that day toward regaining not only her voice, but her independence.

  “You fixed a mighty fine meal, Addie. Can’t beat fried potatoes, greens, and ham.”

  Her cheeks colored a nice rosy pink, and she gave him a wide smile.

  “I was thinking that after we finish, we might sing in the parlor. Would you be willing?”

  She nodded and manipulated her fingers to mimic knitting. Then she opened her hands like a book and pointed to him.

  “Yes, after we sing, I’ll read. I’m anxious myself to get back to the story.” He explained the book to Bodie. “Maybe I’ll take a break and let you read.”

  Bodie ducked his head and mumbled, “I never learned my letters.”

  “What grade did you get to in school?”

  “Never been.” The kid stared off into space. “All my relations said I was too dumb for learning, and the only choice left for someone like me was working.” His face tightened. “But they didn’t fool me. They took all my money—for room and board, they said. And if I didn’t work, they got nothing.”

  A muscle in Ridge’s jaw tightened. “You’re not dumb, Bodie. What do you think about going to school now?”

  “Too old. I’d be a laughingstock.”

  Yeah, he was probably right.

  Ridge scooted his plate back and propped his elbows on the table. “What if I teach you here in private?”

  “I’d like that. It’s downright embarrassing not to be able to sign my own name.”

  Addie scribbled something on her paper and handed it to Ridge. “I taught school for a few years. I could help.”

  Ridge reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers gratefully. Finally, she was starting to open up about her life. “I didn’t know that. You’ll be a huge benefit. My knowledge is somewhat limited, and the boy needs to learn more than to read and write. He needs to be able to count and cipher and all that other stuff.”

  He helped Addie with the dishes, loving the quiet closeness of being with her. Their hands touched frequently as they passed the dishes back and forth, each brush sending a jolt of awareness through him. He liked it so much, he started doing it on purpose.

  Little by little, he was learning his wife. Quite a few things surprised him, especially her willingness to try Dr. Mary’s suggestions. She truly wanted to speak again. It brought hope to see her put her fighting spirit towards recovering her voice. He could see in her eyes how much she yearned to rejoin life. Going to see the doctor today could be the best thing they’d done so far, and it had all been Addie’s idea.

  The pair of denims she’d chosen at the last minute at the mercantile crossed his mind, and heat climbed up his neck. When she put those on, he didn’t know if he’d be able to keep what sense he had about him. Rebel Lassiter wore them and he’d never felt a thing, but there again, she was only a friend.

  Once they finished with the dishes, Addie tended to the wound on his upper arm, cleaning, and dabbing on a salve the doctor had given them. He closed his eyes and soaked in her caring touch, pretending she wasn’t afraid to come to their bed. For a second, he imagined her fingertips running the length of his naked body. To be touched like that would be heaven. He’d been with painted women some, but lying with a wife would be very different.

  Very different in so many ways. Heat built in his stomach.

  After Addie wrapped his wound, they went to the parlor and sang two songs. He was happy to hear Addie hum along. Then he reached for Oliver Twist and read while she pulled out her yarn, the needles clicking away. She and Bodie rolled the hanks of wool into three balls—brown, gold, and green. He didn’t know what she had in mind to make, but the colors were pretty.

  The kitten grabbed the colorful spun wool and managed to wrap itself up in a tangled mess. Miss Kitty swatted at her baby as though trying to make it behave and quit acting like a complete nincompoop. Ridge paused to watch and chuckled at their antics. He’d never known a peace like this and wasn’t giving it up. If the bounty hunter found him again, the man would have to kill him. Ridge would never leave this little family, their home, willingly.

  “Read some more,” Bodie urged. “I want to see what happens.”

  “You like the book?”

  “Shoot, yeah! It’s a lot more interesting than all the begettin’ in the Bible.” The kid grinned. “Never could understand why they didn’t talk in plain English.”

  “To make kids like you wonder about it.” Ridge read a little more and closed the book. “That’s enough for tonight. It’s bedtime, and we have lots of work to do tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir. I reckon we do.” Bodie pulled himself to his feet. “Good night.”

  Addie rose and kissed Bodie’s cheek, then pushed back a curl that had fallen onto the kid’s forehead, just like a mother would. Her tender caring brought a hitch to Ridge’s breath, and he worked to get air past the ache in his chest.

  After Bodie left, Addie turned toward her small space.

  “Wait a minute,” Ridge called, striding to her. “I want to ask you something.”

  Arms full of yarn and mending, she lifted her eyebrows in question.

  “I’d like to kiss you good night—that is, if you’re agreeable. As husbands and wives do.”

  She smiled and moved toward him until she stood very close. The gold flecks in her green eyes sparkled, and the smell of the peach cobbler they’d had for dessert filled each breath. She didn’t seem afraid. Maybe she wanted this as much as he did. She lowered her lids a
nd seemed to hold her breath.

  Ridge anchored her with his hands, spreading his fingers behind each ear, and slowly moved his mouth over hers. Very gently, he kissed her, devouring her softness. The kiss was more deliberate than the one that morning. A lot more. He slid an arm around her, splaying his large hand across her back.

  Warmth rushed through him and pooled in his belly. Her breath melded with his, and her lips parted slightly as she leaned into him for the space of several heartbeats. Not wanting to press his luck, he ended the kiss and took a half step back, not sure what to expect. He prayed he’d done nothing to upset her. He thought he was heeding Luke’s advice to go slow, but any slower, and they’d come to a complete stop.

  “Would you like to do this each night—as our private ritual?” He smiled at her nod, finding the promise of more kissing bursting inside his chest like a roman candle. “Good night, Addie. Sleep well.”

  He turned down the lamps, made sure she didn’t need anything, and went up to bed. Maybe tonight he wouldn’t need whiskey to silence his demons. Addie would be his medicine. The question of whether she would pay him a midnight visit again rolled through his head as he undressed and crawled between the sheets. Just in case, he left the bedroom door wide open in invitation.

  Maybe that was the trick to having a successful marriage—never closing a door, any door, between a husband and wife. An unbidden smile brightened his thoughts along with the hope burning inside him.

  * * *

  Addie sat on her bench and listened to Ridge moving about upstairs, his kiss tingling on her lips. The fat Miss Kitty curled beside her while Squeakers leaped into her lap and settled with a happy meow. A feeling of contentment stole over her. She’d found a place where she was supposed to be, somewhere she mattered.

  The lamp burned low but provided enough light to see by. She braided her hair, then reached for her writing notebook to voice some of the thoughts running through her head.