Sixteen Brides Read online

  She stayed quiet and kept working.

  “Don’t be mad,” he pleaded. “I was just—”

  The frozen top layer of snow crunched as Jackson came toward her. As he rounded the corner, Caroline launched three snowballs in quick succession—and landed all three. The boy let out a whoop as he scooped snow with a cupped hand and sent a wave of white her way. As she dodged the crystalline shower, Caroline heard a door open.

  “You two children hush,” Ruth called. “You’ve awakened the entire dormitory!”

  “It’s all my fault,” Caroline said, breathless as she hurried to retrieve her shovel and get back to work. “I was just—” She never got the words out.

  Ruth launched a snowball that, while aimed at Caroline’s shoulder, glanced off and hit her in the face. Ruth slung a second snowball at Jackson. “I win,” she called, and ducked back inside.

  Caroline and Jackson exchanged surprised smiles.

  “I guess Nebraska agrees with Mother,” Jackson said.

  They shoveled furiously and ended up clearing a path across to the mercantile and then on past to the dining hall and toward the newspaper office, laughing and challenging each other to go faster and faster until, from behind them, Mrs. Haywood called out that she had fresh coffee ready. Up ahead, the livery doors slid open with a screech.

  “Well, I declare,” Caroline said. The ladies would be glad to learn there was no need to worry about that nice Mr. Cooper being trapped alone in a snowstorm. Here he was, pulling his suspenders up as, hatless, he looked up at the blue sky. Apparently he caught a whiff of Martha Haywood’s coffee, because he inhaled deeply and, smiling, turned toward the dining hall. At first sight of Caroline, though, he hesitated. His hand went up to smooth his hair. He looked down at his mud-spattered work pants and went back inside.

  Caroline sent Jackson to return the shovels and then headed toward breakfast in the dining hall. She would have made it, too…had it not been for the ice.

  CHAPTER

  SEVEN

  Let us walk honestly, as in the day; not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying.

  ROMANS 13:13

  I’ll be fine,” Caroline muttered to the air. Feeling silly, she floundered her way off the ice to a spot where a thin crust of snow still granted some semblance of footing. She glanced around, grateful that Mr. Cooper had ducked out of sight and thus no one had seen her graceless fall. She planted her left foot to stand up. Pain shot up her leg. She tried again. This time, a wave of nausea made her sit back with a grunt and close her eyes. Someone swept her up in his arms. He smelled…musty. Embarrassed, she demanded to be put down and was ignored.

  “Put me down.” A combination of anger and humiliation brought on tears. Her nose began to run. “I said, put me down.” As she swiped the tears out of her eyes, she realized she was already at the Immigrant House. Her rescuer loped up the stairs, down the wide hall between the dormitories, and into the kitchen. Finally, he plopped her into a chair just as Hettie Raines came in from the hall.

  “What’s happened?”

  Sniffing and swiping at her tears, Caroline recognized the man who’d caught her parasol when it blew away yesterday. He wore a hide coat and breeches tucked into knee-high boots decorated with a wide strip of beading up the side. Long, unkempt hair and a thick black beard made him look half wild. And once again he just stood there, staring at her with those pale blue eyes of his and saying nothing. When he finally did speak it was to Hettie. “She fell,” he said. Glancing down at Caroline, he muttered, “Hope it isn’t broken.” He retreated out the kitchen door without another word.

  The last thing on earth Hettie wanted anything to do with was doctoring. Ladies like her, who knew about doctoring, were unusual and people tended to talk about things that were unusual. Hettie didn’t want to be talked about. Talk had a way of traveling, and the past had a way of catching up with a person. If that happened, she didn’t know what she would do. The idea sent a tremor of panic to the very tips of her toes. But here sat Caroline, white as a sheet and in pain. Habit and Forrest’s training trumped fear.

  “Where exactly does it hurt, Caroline?”

  She pointed to her ankle.

  “W-we’ll need to get your boot off before your ankle swells any more,” Hettie said. “I’ll fetch a button hook and be right back.” Button hook in hand, she sat down and lifted Caroline’s foot into her lap, quickly unhooking each of the ten buttons running up the side of the stylish black leather boot. She pulled it off as quickly as possible, pleased when Caroline only grunted with pain. “That’s a good sign.”

  “What’s a good sign? That it hurts like the devil himself?”

  “No, it’s a good sign you didn’t scream.” With her palm flat against the ball of Caroline’s foot, Hettie applied gentle pressure, flexing the foot so the toes pointed to the ceiling. She prodded the swollen tissue around the joint and had Caroline move it from side to side. Finally, she nodded. “It’s only a sprain, and I don’t think it’s too bad.” Lowering Caroline’s foot to the floor, she went out back and filled a dishpan with snow. “Ice is the best thing I know,” she said as she set the tub on the floor in front of Caroline.

  “You want me to put my foot in there?” Caroline shivered.

  “You’ll only be able to stand it a little while, but it’ll help keep the swelling down.”

  “It hurts.” Caroline grimaced as she slipped her foot into the snow.

  “Who was your knight in shining armor?”

  “My what?”

  “The man who carried you in.”

  “Someone from town. I don’t know. He was over at the station yesterday. Helping Mr. Cooper load his wagon, I think.” Caroline clenched her jaw against the cold. “I was supposed to help Mrs. Hayworth in the mercantile today. For a few days, actually. Could you go in for me?”

  “No!” Hettie ducked her head. “I…I don’t know anything about keeping a store.”

  “Neither do I. I pretty much figured it was smile and do what you’re told. I imagine Linney knows everything a body’d need to know. She told me she practically grew up working there, and she’s sweet as sweet can be. You’ll be just fine.”

  A solution presented itself when Mavis and Helen exited the dormitory and headed for the front door. Hettie hurried after them, explaining what had happened to Caroline and what she’d promised Mrs. Haywood. “I know you were going to ask about work at the dining hall, but maybe one of you could help in the mercantile instead?”

  By Thursday evening the last vestiges of the snow had melted. Hettie said she felt confident that if Caroline kept her ankle wrapped and if she elevated it when she was sitting down, it would likely be “almost back to normal” within a couple of days. “I doubt you’ll be up to dancing tomorrow night, but with a little help you should be able to make your way to the dining hall and enjoy the music. Martha says they have a fiddler who’s next to none.”

  Sally winked at Caroline. “She won’t have no trouble gettin’ to the dance. I reckon that guardian angel will check in just when you need him again and want a dance, too. Although he smells a bit rangy to be a member of the heavenly host, he makes up for it with all the rest.”

  “The rest of what?” Caroline frowned at Sally over the top of the most recent edition of the Plum Grove News.

  “Did you hit yer head when you fell? Didn’t you see those blue eyes?” Sally gave a little shiver.

  Caroline pretended to concentrate on the newspaper. “I did not hit my head. And for your information I remember quite well that he definitely did not look like a man who spends time waltzing with the ladies.”

  Only a very tiny bit of her halfway hoped that whoever he was, the mountain man might reappear at the dance. After all, waltzing wasn’t all that hard to learn.

  The framework that would soon be three new buildings on Main Street looked like as many skeletons silhouetted against the sunset sky. From where he stood just inside the livery�
�s wide double doors, Matthew Ransom took stock of how Plum Grove was growing. Linney said the three newest buildings would be another mercantile, a hotel, and, of all things, a photography studio run by some fellow who’d just come into town today and was rooming over in the station house. Oh yes, Plum Grove was growing.

  Already wagons and carriages lined Main for tonight’s dance. Laughter sounded from up the street, and Matthew imagined he could already hear the one-two-three as boots and slippers waltzed across the dining hall floor. Today he felt Katie’s absence as if it were something new. She wasn’t there to hear the laughter, to wonder at how on earth Bill Toady got the sounds he did from a fiddle, to exclaim over this new baby and that toddler, to complain when Matthew stood with the group of men gathered outside the dining hall jawing about crops and livestock.

  How Katie would have loved the new display of geegaws in the front window at the mercantile. Her blue eyes would have shone just like Linney’s did when she showed him the jet buttons. Maybe he’d buy a card of them for Linney. Martha was planning to teach her to sew this spring.

  Jet buttons. The pretty little thing he’d scooped up out of the snow a couple of days ago liked jet buttons, too. He felt a little guilty about his ability to remember how those buttons marched downward from the velvet-edged collar of her blue dress. Scratching his beard, Matthew tried and failed to suppress a smile remembering how angry she’d been when he scooped her up. She was light as a feather. And she smelled like spring. He wondered if she would be wearing that same dress tonight. And he hated himself for wondering. I’m sorry, Katie.

  Old Bill Toady was already outdoing himself this evening. Matthew hadn’t heard fiddle music that good in a long while. You haven’t heard ANY music in a long while. Unless you count Jeb Cooper’s humming to himself when you helped him load his freight. Folks seemed to be having a wonderful time. The music and laughter had an odd effect on Matthew. He didn’t quite understand why, but instead of drawing him toward it, the sound of people enjoying themselves made part of him wish he hadn’t promised Linney a dance. Made him wish he hadn’t agreed to stay in town for a few days.

  Already Vernon Lux was talking about how he needed a carpenter to fill the orders he was getting for new wagons over at the implement store, how there would likely be a rash of business once the new homesteaders started breaking ground, how good Matthew had always been at woodworking and such. “Why don’t you think about it,” Lux had said earlier today. “That back room would fix up nice. You could use it for as long as you wanted. I bet Linney would dance a jig to have her pa close by.”

  These were the things keeping Matthew up here in the livery. Pondering Plum Grove’s expansion and Linney’s growing up and Katie’s absence. Realizing that Vernon Lux was right. And dreading what it all meant for Matthew Ransom.

  “Oh, Mama.” Ella looked down at Mama’s open trunk and the familiar bandbox from a certain milliner’s shop in St. Louis. How had she managed to sneak it onto the train? “How did you—”

  Mama waved a hand in the air. “Where there is the will, Zita finds a way.” She grinned. “You are so easy to fool sometimes.” She pointed to the hatbox. “The hard part was keeping you from seeing it when I took it out of my traveling case last night.” Mama chuckled. “I thought you’d never go to the necessary! Now—” She reached for the hat. “Hurry and put on your Sunday dress. It doesn’t match exactly, but—”

  “Mama.” Ella glanced toward the hallway, mindful of how the other ladies had looked a few minutes ago as they helped Mrs. Jamison out the door and toward the dining hall. Multicolored songbirds fluttering up the street—that’s what Ella had thought. Even Mrs. Dow had laid aside black in favor of indigo silk.

  “Take it.” Mama held out the new hat. “Anew hat for a new life. Wear it to please me.”

  “I can’t.” Ella plopped down on the bed. How could she make Mama understand? It had taken so very much effort to grasp a new dream and new hope and to climb back into the light. But that light did not include womanly things like new bonnets and waltzes. Ella’s new light shone on dreams of well-fed livestock and mountains of newly mown hay.

  “Ella.” Mama sat down beside her, the bonnet on her lap. “God promises to make all things new.”

  “I don’t think he was talking about bonnets.”

  “Well, of course he wasn’t. He was talking about things inside of us, and he’s making you new inside, too. On Tuesday when Caroline said Plum Grove wasn’t much, you pointed out the new buildings. When Ruth and Caroline told us what the Emigration Society really meant, already you were thinking how you would cope. How you would use it all to make your own place of light—your own new creation in partnership with the God who will send rain and crops and baby chicks and all good things for us to richly enjoy.” Mama paused. “That’s what I want for you, Ella. I want you to richly enjoy all good things.” She traced one of the iridescent feathers. “The morning stars made music when God created the earth. Do you remember reading that? Why shouldn’t we enjoy some music in celebration of your creating a home for us? Why shouldn’t we dance and wear new bonnets and laugh with our new neighbors? If God meant for life to be all sorrow, he wouldn’t have created laughter, Ella.” Mama squeezed her hand.

  Ella sighed. Such a little thing Mama was asking. Put on a new bonnet. Go to a dance. Enjoy. It had been so long since Ella enjoyed life, she wasn’t certain she would know how. No one would ask her to dance, of course. Unless they liked a beefy gal. She looked down at the new hat. It really was lovely. Mama had such a good sense of fashion. She’d even selected a more conservative color. “All right, Mama.” Ella reached for the hat. At least it isn’t red.

  He had slicked-back hair and a thin red line along his right cheekbone. The cuffs on his shirt were frayed but clean, and if her ankle weren’t throbbing so, Caroline would have loved to have danced with this Bill. He was the third Bill to ask her to dance, and the other two…well. The other two just plain smelled bad, and Caroline was thankful for the ability to say, “I’m so sorry, but I cain’t.” She didn’t dare lift her skirt to show them her bandaged ankle, of course, but when she rose and hobbled over to get a cup of punch from the pass-through between dining room and kitchen, Caroline allowed it was testimony enough that she wasn’t just making excuses. Thankfully, neither of the aromatic Bills invited themselves to sit down next to her. This Bill, however, seemed nice enough. And so she accepted his offer to refill her mug and didn’t mind at all when he asked her if he might “set a spell.”

  “Nice evening,” he said, cupping his own coffee mug between both hands and staring down at the contents as if they required inspection before drinking. “I heard—I mean, folks are saying—”

  “Please, Mr. Miller. Do tell me what folks are sayin’.” Caroline grinned. “I’ve been dyin’ to overhear what folks are sayin’, but this ankle of mine has nailed me to the floor in a corner. I’m just dyin’ of curiosity, seein’ as how it would normally be my habit to be in the middle of every single dance, where I could overhear for myself. So do tell. What are the good folks of Dawson County sayin’ about me and my friends?”

  As it turned out, Bill might not be all that good at handling a straight razor, but he excelled at information. City lots were going to be available soon. The board was advertising back east for a doctor and there’d be a school before the end of the year. The late snow had caused problems for the ranchers. “That’s why there aren’t so many people out tonight,” he said. “That and the big doin’s over at Cayote. Most of the boys headed over there to see the bri—” He broke off.

  Caroline finished the sentence for him. “To see the brides, I expect.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He sat back then. “If it weren’t for that, there’d be dozens more here tonight.” He nodded toward the fiddler. “Bill Toady’s the best in the county. Folks always turn out in droves when they know he’s playing.”

  Another Bill. Caroline smiled. She was just about to comment on the number of Bills an
d Wills in Plum Grove when this Bill let out a little “uh-oh.” He was looking toward the door. All Caroline could see above the dancers were two cowboy hats. Expecting to see Lucas Gray sashay into the room, she was more than disappointed when the two hats proved to be on unfamiliar heads, although the look in the men’s eyes was not unfamiliar to her. Uh-oh indeed.

  They’d obviously started the evening at the saloon. They stood inside the door for a moment, watching the five couples on the dance floor, then scanning the room. Caroline followed their gaze, her heart pounding. She turned in her chair, ever so slightly toward Bill. Sally was on the dance floor—had been for every dance so far this evening, as had both Mavis and Helen. Ruth, Zita, and Ella were over by the kitchen chatting with two young couples. And yet, as she scanned the crowd, Caroline thought she detected more than one worried glance in the direction of the two newcomers. Even the fiddler seemed to have changed. Somehow the music was more frantic. As if he wanted to keep the dancers moving.

  Caroline wished she could rise and slip through the kitchen door and momentarily out of sight. Something about those two—and then they saw her. Words passed between them and they left. It’s your imagination. They just happened to glance over here as they were deciding to leave. They could have been looking for anyone.

  Except they weren’t. Moments later, with Bill Toady taking a well-earned break from fiddling and the seat next to her having been vacated, Caroline rose and hobbled to where Ella and Zita stood admiring the new baby in a beaming mother’s arms. After being introduced, Caroline said, “I believe I’ll retire a little early. My ankle’s throbbing something awful and the resident doc says I should prop it up—or ice it.” She shivered at the thought.

  “Doc?” the young woman asked. “Does Plum Grove finally have a doctor?”