A Bargain For A Bride: Clean mail order bride romance (Montana Passion Book 1) (7 page)

That night, both Moira and Gretchen collapsed in bed from exhaustion, grateful to not have to sleep at the table as they had the night before. Pryor’s injury, though still an angry-looking gash, was not so severe that he couldn’t get a good night’s rest, such as it would be back in the barn. They were too weary to argue when he insisted they return to their room in the cabin, and instead, waved gratefully before locking the door for the night.

“I did not think to ask you how the washing went, although I can tell it must have been fine as these linens smell fresh!” Moira said, pulling the covers up and sighing contentedly. With the winter air so frigid, the maid had had to hang them over the woodstove to force them to dry, and the homey smell of smoke combined with the washing soap lulled Moira into a warm embrace of comfort. Gretchen giggled softly, the tiredness in her voice coloring her happiness.

“Oh, I nearly forgot! There was a man passing by the creek when I was at the washing!” she exclaimed. Moira sat up in alarm.

“What? And you didn’t think to say something sooner?”

“I’m sorry, my lady, I got distracted when I returned,” she answered, referring to the work of sorting through Pryor’s dry goods then replacing the ticking in the mattress with a new pile of hay from the barn. She’d ended her day with washing all the floors, even the porch, before helping to see to the evening chores with her mistress.

“Oh, I apologize, Gretchen, that’s not how I meant to speak. I only meant to say that there should not have been anyone nearby; Pryor told me thus. The creek runs through his property, and anyone who comes this way has had to step onto his land. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to imply that you’d done anything wrong.”

“No, I understand, miss. But this man was no stranger. He said he knows Mr. MacAteer, although he kept calling him Mac. He wanted me to tell him that he’s returned to Montana. Could it be someone who had a land claim and had to abandon it, like Mr. MacAteer told us?”

“Anything is possible, I dare say,” Moira replied, laying back against the pillows and letting herself relax once more. “We must remember to let Pryor know first thing in the morning, in case these two gentlemen have business to conduct together.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Gretchen mumbled before yawning widely. “If I can remember that far off…”

Fortunately, Moira reminded her in the morning, and Gretchen ducked her head shyly as she addressed Pryor over another filling breakfast.

“There was a gentleman at the creek yesterday who said he wished to see you, but he neglected to give me his name,” she began, watching Pryor’s face to make sure he wasn’t angered by the news. “A tall man, on a grey horse, a very sad-looking animal, if I may say so.”

“Yes, you may say so!” Pryor answered with a shout. “That sounds like Nathaniel Russell! Was he about this tall, with bright yellow hair?” Gretchen looked to Moira for approval before nodding, but Moira only cocked her head to the side and waited for the girl to finish. “I’ll be damn— I mean, I’m certainly surprised he’s back!”

Both ladies blushed and stood immobile at the coarse language, which only made Pryor laugh. “While you’re learning to milk a cow and build a fence, you might need to learn to accept a few phrases in this American language! I’m sure by the time you’ve hit yourself in the thumb for the hundredth time, you won’t be too proud to yell a few of these words yourself!”

They eventually laughed, and Gretchen continued. “He says he’d like to come ‘round and pay you a visit, now that he’s to be back on his property.”

“Did something ill befall Mr. Russell?” Moira asked, trying not to be nosy about others in the area, but wondering what could cause a fellow homesteader to be forced to leave his land.

“You could say that. As you know, you don’t get to choose your claim. It’s given to you by random selection. His happens to be on some fairly rocky soil, and with only a small portion of a creek running through it, one that stayed dry during the summer months when water was already scarce. He lost everything he had after two bad harvests, and had to look for work elsewhere. Lucky for him, the railroad came through this region and he signed on. It’s dangerous work, and I’m glad to hear that he survived. If he’s back, he must have earned enough money to stay on for another year.”

“How far away is his land that his soil is so very different from your own?”

“Not far at all, actually. His property neighbors mine. His just slopes up toward the hills some, so it’s filled with rocks that made plowing and planting too hard. I tried to help him out a little by offering to share my fence line with him so that at least one side of his property would be accounted for, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Thought it was charity, or so he said. Anyway, last I heard from him, he was taking that railroad job. I’m not much of a church-going man, but I’m not ashamed to say I found myself praying for old Nathaniel more than once.”

“That doesn’t seem fair at all! How can they take his money and allot him a portion of land that cannot be farmed?” Moira cried, indignant for the man who’d lost so much that he’d had to risk his life just to keep from losing more.

“It’s the way of it. Settling land is a gamble, just as sure as throwing down your money in a game of cards. ‘Course, farming is a gamble anyway. You have to have faith that there will be plenty of water and no hail storms, and that your animals won’t take sick or lame. Even if everything goes your way, you’re gambling that the price of your harvest will be enough to feed you for another year. At least when you gamble, you have a chance that things will turn out all right. For some of these fellas, and for a lady or two I know, having any kind of small chance was more chance than they’d ever had.”

“That was quite poetic, Pryor,” Moira said, a new respect for the man evident in her voice. He looked up from his breakfast and caught her watching him, then smiled sheepishly when he realized there was no hint of ridicule in her expression. He nodded, then went back to his breakfast.

Their early morning meal carried them through another long, back breaking day. Gretchen carried out her household chores while Moira learned more about running her claim from Pryor. After the midday meal was done and the dishes washed, it was Gretchen’s turn to learn more about tending the animals while Moira demonstrated, looking at Pryor from time to time to make sure she was doing it right.

“When will it ever become intuitive?” Moira asked as they walked back to the fields afterward.

“What do you mean?” Pryor asked, cocking his head and looking at her sideways.

“I mean, when will the day come that I’ll just know what needs to be done, and know how to do it? When do I begin to know what a sky is going to do later in the day just by looking out my window over a morning cup of coffee? When do know that a horse has a rock in his shoe just by the way he’s tossing his head? You know these things, just as surely as if someone whispered them in your ear. How does that kind of knowledge of the land happen?”

“I don’t rightly know,” he answered after a long pause. “It’s something that just happens, probably from knowing that you have to know these things to survive out here, not just to do well. If you’re caught out on your property in a storm, you could be hurt or killed. If your horse becomes lame from an untended hoof, you’re not plowing or harvesting, and you’re not driving into town for supplies or for a doctor. You start to notice the things that matter and make a difference, and pay better attention to them than to the things that don’t seem to matter so much anymore.”

Moira listened intently, wondering which things mattered now and which ones weren’t so important anymore. In just the few days she’d been in Montana, and the months she’d spent getting to America and then getting to the frontier, some of the things that once drove her back in Brennan—the business affairs, the appearances to keep up for other nobles, the parties and dinners—were almost laughable. She had crossed a raging ocean and crossed a vast country, all to be allowed to make her own decisions. She would learn to separate the vital from the unnecessary, because her success here wasn’t just a matter of life and death, but of freedom versus bondage, versus death for her brother.

“There are times during the day when I’m not sure I made a wise decision,” she said quietly. Pryor didn’t respond, as he had no words of comfort to convince her. Able-bodied men who’d worked the land since they could stand up on their own legs had failed out here, and this woman, a pampered lady who’d never lifted her own ladle before arriving in Montana, hoped to make a living on her own. He had nothing to encourage her with.

“It’s worse at night, just before I go to sleep,” she continued as they walked. “That’s when I remember that if something happened to me, my brother would never know it. Worse, I’ve put poor Gretchen in harm’s way. If something happens to her, if she takes ill or is hurt like you were, there would be no one to blame but me for her fate. I would never forgive myself.”

“It’s not as bad as all that,” Pryor finally promised her. “Sure, it’s hard living out here, but you have a good head on your shoulders and you’re determined. You know that I’ll help you in any way I can…” He left his sentence hanging between them, suddenly aware of what those words meant to him.

The air around Pryor seemed to turn thin as he realized what he was really hearing: Moira might give up and head home. She’d only just arrived, but had already seen that this life might be more than she had signed up for. Her thoughts were back home in Ireland, where everything she knew was familiar even if it wasn’t perfect.

He couldn’t explain the tugging feeling he felt in his chest, the desperate need to say something to convince her she could be successful with a farm of her own. What had happened in just the last few days to make him so determined to have her stay? Was it the hope he’d let himself feel when he received his papers stating that a wife was on the way? The hope that came from knowing he wouldn’t be alone anymore? His farm was thriving where others’ farms had failed, but it meant nothing if every day, he woke up to an empty house and every night, he went to sleep in an empty bed.

Rather than explain his feelings, his desperate sense that he couldn’t bear for her to leave, he forced a bright smile onto his face and turned to speak.

“I know exactly what you need! We need to see your land, see what you have to work with. Then we need to make a trip into New Hope for supplies. Once you see your very own land and you have the supplies to work it, you’ll feel better. I know you will.”

After the early chores the following morning, Pryor hitched his team of horses to his wagons and spread a fresh pile of hay in the wagon box, both for the horses to eat during the day and for the ladies to sit on as they traveled. Gretchen packed a large wicker basket with food and glass jars of fresh water from the creek, and Moira made sure she brought the map to her very own claim.

They’d gone through the papers the night before, sitting all together at Pryor’s table with the glow of an oil lamp bathing the room in flickering yellow light. He traced the lines of the map with a worn-smooth fingertip, calling out specific landmarks in the landscape, nothing more than rocks or trees or small mountains that meant nothing to Moira yet. Gretchen looked on with interest for only a few moments, but retired to her knitting, a habit that was increasingly odd to Moira. What was her maid’s determination to constantly remove herself from the room when Pryor spoke to Moira? In Brennan, Gretchen had always been seated nearby, usually away from the center of attention but always readily available to keep Moira company or provide a distraction for her at a particularly boring event. But here, every time Moira looked to her, Gretchen was leaving her alone with Pryor, as though she worked against some matchmaking agenda.

“Why do you do that?” Moira asked her maid as they got ready for bed, Pryor having safely rolled up Moira’s documents and returned them to her before retiring to the barn again.

“Do what, my lady?” Gretchen asked coyly, but it wasn’t long before the sly smile she’d been attempting to hold back broke out, the corners of her mouth pulling back devilishly, no matter how hard she tried to keep a straight face.

“You know good and well what I mean! Any time Mr. MacAteer so much as glances in my direction, you turn and leave the room! I don’t know what your motives are, dear, but I’m on to you!” Moira had meant for her scolding to be stern, or at least serious, but instead, she found herself nearly laughing at her maid’s innocent expression.

“But I don’t know what you mean, ma’am! I’m merely going about my duties. I’m sorry that there are naw more servants about to keep me free to stay by you, as there had been in Brennan Castle, but I’ll just have to make do!” Gretchen was very nearly laughing as she tried to defend herself, which only made Moira press the subject even further.

“Tell me true, Gretchen, are you leaving us alone on purpose?”

The maid stopped laughing, and instead, gave her mistress a comforting smile. “Is that what you think, ma’am?” Moira nodded, pursing her lips to keep from reprimanding the girl. “If you think I’m leaving you alone with Mr. MacAteer, then you must have a reason to think so. Is it possibly because you fancy him?”

Moira’s eyes grew wide and she opened her mouth to protest. Her maid had no right to speak to her that way. But instead of looking sheepish or chastised, Gretchen had the nerve to raise an eyebrow and give her mistress a knowing look.

“Are you being impish with me?” Moira demanded, throwing her hand on her hip in a callous manner, more surprised than angry at her maid’s boldness. Gretchen only giggled again.

“So what if I am? Are you going to put me aside and find a new ladies’ maid?” She laughed out loud again when Moira looked horrified at the thought. “I dare not think you’d find anyone out here to do up your hair and your buttons! But to answer your question, my lady, yes… I’m leaving the two of you alone by design.”

“And why is that, pray you?”

“Because he’s a good man, and just as you cannaw find another lady’s maid, I don’t see as how you’ll find another one like him out here.”

“Who says I am even looking for a man?”

“My lady, you are young and beautiful and dare I say it, you’re wealthy. But even worse, you’re a land owner in your own right, with your claim paid for. There’s trouble brewing if you don’t find a man. Even out here in the middle of nowhere, with no one in sight and no one in the way, believe you me… men will find you, and they may not be the kind of honorable men Mr. MacAteer seems to be.” Her commanding tone softened to one of loving respect for her mistress. “And besides, you’ll want to be married someday and have a family of your own, so what’s not to like about a man who has gone to all the trouble to bring you here? Mr. MacAteer certainly seemed disappointed enough that you hadn’t come to be his wife.”

Moira had no reply. This wasn’t a conversation she’d meant to have with anyone, least of all her serving girl, because it would have meant she had to acknowledge her own feelings on the matter. It was far safer to tell herself Pryor was off-limits, that he was only a fellow settler, someone who could help her on her way and nothing more. She had no time nor inclination for a complication such as her feelings for Pryor, no matter how much they continued to peck at her mind.

“Admit it, my lady,” Gretchen prodded kindly, giving Moira an encouraging look. “You care for the man. And you know he cares for you.”

She wanted to stand her ground, but instead, found herself nodding without even realizing it. “He’s a kind, honest, and hard-working man if ever there was one. But I cannot waste my time on a schoolgirl’s idea of love and romance. I am here to establish the Brennan claim, and nothing more.”

“Are you still holding onto the hope that Ronan will come for you?”

“No, that’s not it,” Moira admitted, dropping her gaze to her hands. Gretchen wasn’t convinced, but didn’t press her point; she didn’t need to, as her mistress read her thoughts perfectly. “It’s just that I had that dream for so long that I’m not ready to let go of it. In my mind, it would all turn out fine, and my family would be pleased to have a greater estate, and my husband, who my father had chosen with my blessing, would oversee the American holdings. It was all going to be perfect, and now it shall never be.”

“Oh, my lady, you do not know what will come to pass. And if this dream never happens, then you’ll seize upon a new dream, one that lifts your spirits in the same way this one did. But there’s no reason that the dream of working your land with your husband has to be dashed. Don’t decide it now, ma’am, but promise your heart that you won’t shut love out.”

That had been the night before, but Gretchen’s words had prevented Moira from having a sound night’s sleep. As a result, she’d yawned her way through breakfast and now practically nodded off sitting upright in the wagon, a strong urge to nap suddenly brought on by the swaying of the cart as the horses moved. The occasional rock or ridge in the path jolted her every time, her neck nearly snapping in two whenever the wagon moved too sharply.

All of a sudden, there was no way Moira could have slept, not even with a draught and a week without sleep, for Pryor guided the horses around a bend and the valley below came into view. The creek that wound through Pryor’s property to carry water from the river some miles away worked its way through the land here, providing a bubbling backdrop to the vista.

“This is mine?” she whispered, trembling so visibly that Gretchen reached a hand out to comfort her, to convince her it was real.

“Yup, this is your land,” Pryor agreed, watching her face as the realization set in. The look of rapturous joy was one he knew well, because he remembered the same feeling etched on his expression when he first saw his homestead. “Are you going to get out and visit, or was just this one look enough for ya?”

Moira grinned and jumped down from the wagon without waiting for Gretchen or Pryor to help her. She ran forward, her simple skirt flying out behind her as she moved, anxious to feel the land beneath her own feet. She stopped and threw herself down, ripping her boots and stockings off without bothering with the buttons. She screamed with laughter when she finally felt the grass tickling her bare toes, while Pryor and Gretchen looked on in shock and amusement.

“My lady?” her maid asked, climbing down from the wagon and walking over to her hesitantly. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Oh, Gretchen, my dear! I’m far better than all right! I’m home! Look out upon this place, this is our home!” She let out a loud yell as she jumped up and continued to run, weaving a path through the land that carried her over and around the contours of the land. She’d run all the way to the creek before Pryor could tie off his horses on their picket line and let them eat the grass. When he flopped down in the shade of the wagon and rested with his arms behind his head, Gretchen stared between the two of them, wondering what to do.

“Should we go after her?” she finally asked, keeping a respectable distance from the man who was reclining on the ground very close to her feet. Pryor didn’t open his eyes to answer.

“Naw. She knows where the wagon is. It’s best to let her enjoy this moment; she’ll come back when she’s had her fill of running and yelling and exploring.”

“You describe her as though she was a hunting dog, Mr. MacAteer!” Gretchen chastised with a light laugh.

“She might as well be at this moment, but don’t you dare tell her I said that!” He laughed softly, a sound that grew suspiciously into a snore. Gretchen walked away apiece to give him his privacy during a much needed rest, and to keep a closer eye on her mistress. What she couldn’t see was Pryor waiting until Gretchen had moved down the hill before propping himself up on one bent elbow, watching happily and protectively as Moira reveled in her new find.

After an hour of exploring, Moira had still only seen the first few acres. She plotted in her mind where the cabin would go, where a modest barn could be built, where she could position some animals to graze, where she could plant a garden. It was more than a little overwhelming to envision it all, especially with Gretchen’s words from the night before still moving around in her thoughts.

Was there any truth to what the maid had said? Did she really want to linger out in her home, beautiful though it may be, alone as a spinster woman? Or could she put aside her prejudice long enough to know that not every man and every marriage had to be a prison?

Moira turned to look back toward the wagon and was shocked at how far away it seemed. The tiny speck at the top of the hill made her feel small against the landscape somehow, and the sight of her maid walking closer was a welcome relief. Perhaps Gretchen had been right, and she wasn’t looking to throw caution to the wind and live in the frontier.

“Gretchen!” Moira called, waving her arms to bring the girl closer. “Come and have a look!” When the maid finally came to the spot where Moira stood, she was somewhat out of breath, but smiling all the same.

“It is a beautiful property, my lady,” Gretchen said, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand as she looked in every direction. “But it’s so…”

“What? What’s the matter?” Moira demanded, turning and watching her maid’s expression.

“It’s just so far… from everything. What will we do if we need something, or if there’s danger?”

“We’ll have to learn to fend for ourselves, that’s what we’ll do!” Moira replied, standing up taller and throwing her shoulders back, puffing out her chest with an air of confidence. Gretchen looked much less certain, but Moira noticed she didn’t offer any argument. “Is it really that alarming to you to be so isolated?”

Gretchen weighed her answer carefully. The last thing she wanted to do was to sink Moira’s spirits, not after she’d come so far. She merely shrugged her shoulders instead of having to answer directly, and Moira threw her arm around the girl’s shoulders.

“We will be fine, you’ll see! This is where our new adventure begins, the place we’ve worked so hard to come to! Come, let us tell Pryor we want his thoughts on where to put up a house and a barn, and we’ll want to know what supplies he recommends.”

They trudged back up the slope of the land, taking their time as they inspected the hillside. The plans and possibilities swirled in Moira’s mind all the way back to where Pryor waited for them.