An Unwilling Husband (6 page)

Biting her lip against treacherous sobs, she finished unpacking her belongings and lay on her new bed to quietly cry herself to sleep. This life was raw and surreal, a dark dream she would wake up from at any time and she desperately needed the sweet release of unconsciousness to begin to heal.

* * * *

Maggie opened her eyes to darkness. It must be late evening. Her ears prickled with the eerie silence of an empty house. Garret could be sleeping, but more likely, hadn’t come back from the ranch’s frantic attempt to ready everything for the cattle drive the next day. Cookie had told her this was Garret’s first time heading up the drive, and a lot rode on it since this would be the first step in saving the ranch. If it didn’t go well, or they didn’t get the price they needed, the ranch would go under. And fast.

Seated at the small desk in the corner of Garret’s den, she lit the wick of a candle that waited readily upon it. She guessed she could call it her den as well, which seemed bizarre.

My dearest Uncle,

I hope this letter finds you in good health, even though I know you are missing me terribly, as I’m sure there has been absolutely no entertainment since I left. Who will you secretly tease and laugh at in my absence? All fun aside, this letter will shock and sadden you, and then shock you again. Don’t worry if you get halfway through and feel you cannot go on. The story has a somewhat happy ending, just like the books I know you so love.

I have arrived safely in Rockdale, and though I have a considerable amount of adjusting to do, Roy met me with open arms and made me feel right at home once again. I feel a freedom here, Uncle. From the moment I stepped off the train, I could inhale fully for the first time in a long time. I have met an Indian girl here named Lenny who I have decided I was meant to be bosom friends with. She is wonderful, and beautifully exotic and intelligent. She doesn’t speak a bit of English, though I suspect she understands it just fine.

Now for the saddest part of this story. Roy passed away a day after my arrival, to my heartbroken regret. How is it that I am only to have one day with him? It seems eternally unfair to me. Am I blessed to have spent that one day with him before his fate took him? Or, did I bring this bad luck to Rockdale?

And now, take heart. I’m no longer Miss Flemming, ill-reputationed bastard child. Oh, cease your sputtering, my dear uncle. You and I both know it was the most common name thrown about when I was in town. I am now Mrs. Shaw, first lady of the Lazy S Ranch. Are you impressed by my fortitude in securing a husband so quickly, when years in Society didn’t produce such a miracle? I am surprised and impressed right along with you. Don’t worry about me, Uncle William. My husband is handsome, and honorable, and terribly arrogant, but I suspect you all are at this age, am I right? I’ll write again soon.

Maggie Shaw

She’d made the letter sound as if she were happy and well adjusted. So what, if that couldn’t be further from the truth? It wouldn’t help anything to have Uncle William worry about her, or Aunt Margaret spouting I-told-you-sos.

The pen cleaned and set in its holder, she sat back in the desk’s wooden chair. She wasn’t tired, and would talk to Garret about the situation they had found themselves in. Preferably in a civil manner, but one could never tell how any discussion would go with that insufferable man. More likely than not, the conversation would end with her wanting to choke the life out of a fence post, but she was willing to give talking a try.

Garret probably was staying out on purpose, to avoid confrontation. Did he think she would jump out and molest him? Not likely!

She took the candle into her room, left it there and picked her way carefully through the unfamiliar house. In the chair in the den, she waited. Sure enough, within minutes, booted feet clomped on the porch. The door creaked open slowly, and a slash of moonlight and the slight glow of the candle from the bedroom revealed Garret’s tall form.

“Ha!” she said, victorious.

Garret jumped like a jack rabbit and skittered backward. He scowled at her. “You scared me near to death, woman. What are you doing, sitting there in the dark?”

“Waiting for you, naturally.” She tried not to smile, but scaring him made her feel better. “I think we should talk.”

With a sigh, he dropped his hat on the table. “No.”

When he tried to sidle past her to the bedrooms, she sidestepped and stood in front of him, arms crossed. She hadn’t waited around all evening to give up so easily. “No, you won’t even talk to me? I am your wife, Mr. Shaw. You don’t like me. You have made that abundantly clear. It doesn’t, however, pardon you from showing me the respect of a conversation about your intentions.”

“Look here, Margaret—”

“Maggie.”

He squinted at her. Likely he was having as much trouble seeing in the dark as she was. The candle in her bedroom offered little in the way of illumination. “Maggie, I have to be up to drive those cattle at dawn tomorrow. I’m tired, I’m hungry, and in no way up to fighting you tonight, so please...” He gestured for her to scoot aside.

Compromise it was. “Fine,” she said. “We’ll talk on our way into town tomorrow, then?”

He gave a harsh laugh. “Oh, no. There is no way you are coming with us on this drive. I saw the way you ride a horse, and I can’t be saving you every two minutes. You’ll stay here. I’ve already talked to Lenny and she has agreed to stay with you. She’ll show you around.”

Oh, sod it all. You couldn’t compromise with a rattlesnake. “When will you be back?”

“A week at least,” he replied testily.

No doubt, he loathed that he might have to answer to anyone. “A week? Why so long?”

“Because we only drive the cattle fifteen miles a day so they don’t lose weight,” he said in an overly patiently tone, as if she were a petulant child. “It’ll take us a few days to get them to the train station, and then we have to corral them and negotiate a price. In the day we waited to bury Roy the price might have dropped, I don’t know. If it has, we may wait a couple of days for it to come back up. Won’t know ’til we get there.” Garret sighed. “You ever use one of those?” He nodded toward the three rifles mounted on the wall by the door.

“Of course I have,” she lied, not about to admit any more weakness.

He raised an eyebrow. “Great. Well, use one if there’s trouble. Good night, Maggie.” Then he stepped around her and disappeared into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Worst wedding night ever. Her life was so terribly different from what it had been.

Chapter 4

Maggie woke from a fitful sleep to the sound of murmured orders, the jingle of harnesses, and the rooster, which seemed to have an irrational need to crow continuously. Burke yelled at the unknown someone who’d taken the last buttered biscuit, and wood slamming against wood reverberated as boxes of supplies were loaded into the back of the wagon. The men were preparing for the drive at dawn and they weren’t being quiet about it.

Her bedroom was at the front of the house, so the window gave a great view of the bustling activity. A shawl tightly around her shoulders against the crisp coolness of the morning, she peeked through the window searching for…something.

Garret. Giving orders and tightening the cinch on a big, dark chestnut horse. The animal was tall and well bred. The early morning light reflected off twitching muscles as he stamped his front hoof. Irritated or not, the animal was beautiful.

He flattened his ears testily as Garret finished saddling him, and she snorted. The horse seemed as arrogant as its rider. No less an animal would have done for such an unapproachable man as Garret Shaw.

Her heart ached when the men headed out. She hadn’t expected him to say goodbye, but a look back in her direction would have been nice. How obnoxious, that she felt anything for her impossible and infuriating husband.

Husband.
She plopped un-fetchingly onto the bed.
Idiot
was more like it.

Having washed, and dressed in a light blue silk gown, she headed into the kitchen, where Lenny waited at the table. The girl pointed to the stove and sat back, eyes bright and lips quirked in amusement.

“Me? Make breakfast? My cooking would more likely kill you than fill you.” Maggie shook her head. “Huh uh.”

Lenny repeated the gesture, then got up and took stoneware canisters of salt and flour and pans out of various cupboards, holding each up in front of Maggie in turn. Then she pointed in the direction in which the men had disappeared and made horns on her head with her fingers.

“I don’t understand,” Maggie said. “Garret?”

The girl nodded enthusiastically.

“Garret is a bull? I know he’s a bull-headed man. Is that the symbol we are using for him? Bull?”

Another nod and a smile

“We need the symbol for donkey.”

Lenny frowned, head cocked, and Maggie brayed like an ass. A peal of laughter came from the Indian girl, and she couldn’t help but join her.

Recovered, Lenny began again, making the symbol for Garret, and then pointed to Maggie and shook her head in mock sadness.

“He doesn’t think I can make it out here. He doesn’t think I can do anything?”

Lenny nodded slowly.

“Will you teach me?”

Smiling, the girl held up the flour again. Lesson one.

* * * *

Without Lenny’s guidance the biscuits would have been in flames, cooked until they resembled unappetizing hunks of black coal. Thanks to her, the biscuits didn’t taste half bad and mopped in molasses with a side of fried eggs, breakfast was just this side of heaven.

After they’d had their fill, Lenny took her riding. She didn’t show her much, other than to adjust her posture, but they went on a long ride around the ranch. Perhaps both to give her time in the saddle so she could adjust to riding again, and to become familiar with the place she would now call home.

She’d explored the land in her youth, but it was something more with Lenny, who pointed out rock formations jutting from the craggy earth, creatures that were invisible to the untrained eye, and followed indiscernible trails.

Behind Lenny, she ducked branches and sidestepped rocky terrain and when her escort pushed her to take Buck up a steep embankment, squeaked in fear. As terrifying as it had been, upon reaching the top and experiencing the view, oh, what a feeling of accomplishment. She could see for miles. A view like this didn’t exist in the city. Clusters of bright green trees dotted the landscape and a river wound through the land like some great serpent.

By the time they dismounted in front of the house, her muscles ached from the combination of riding the day before and the long ride around the ranch. Lenny laughed as Maggie strode tenderly into the house. She must look every bit the bowlegged cowboy. If one ignored the fancy dress, of course.

Lenny packed up a lunch of leftover biscuits, cheese, dried beef and an apple for each of them, careful to show her where everything was, then took a couple of long-barreled rifles off the sturdy hooks that held them. One lesson on how to hold the gun safely wasn’t nearly enough, but the Indian girl headed out the front door, leaving her to follow clumsily behind.

Lesson or not, she held her weapon like it was a snake. The rifle looked even more dangerous in her soft, unpracticed hands, and when the barrel of the gun snagged one of her perfectly pinned curls and threatened never to let go, Lenny stepped in and put an end to her frantic flailing. Kindly, her experienced teacher only rolled her eyes once.

They plodded around the side of the house and headed in the direction of Roy’s place, and the thought of him had her sinking in despair. He should’ve been here to show her how to shoot, encouraging her with his kindness and dry sense of humor. By the time they stopped at a lane where a wooden table had been set up, she was close to misery.

Lenny took the gun from her, set it upright against the rickety, weather-worn table, then holding Maggie’s hand, led her to a giant cottonwood. In the shade of the sprawling branches, she sat with Lenny and ate lunch.

In the wake of the rifle trying its best to maim her curls, her hair had fallen from its pins and likely resembled the nest of some deranged buzzard. Perhaps Lenny worried she’d be privy to another such incident; the girl sat behind her and deftly weaved her thick auburn hair into a single braid much like hers.

With the most admirable calmness and efficiency, Lenny showed her how to load one of the guns, stand, and aim. She placed sticks in divots carved into the table and when she motioned, Maggie aimed at the first one.