Marrying Minda (9 page)

At the thought, Minda's heart started to pound too hard. Maybe she'd picked up Priscilla's contagion. But she knew better. She had to cope with all of this, too. And the only way she knew how to sort things out and to think things through was to create a hat.

She glanced at Priscilla and at Katie through the open sleeping curtain. The little brown braid hung almost to the floor. Somehow, Minda would find time tomorrow to make the girls new bonnets for church on Sunday. And outlaws or not, that would mean a trip into town.

Brix wiggled in the big overstuffed chair, probably signaling he was ready to go outside to his bedroll.

“I'll put her to bed,” she whispered, then added, “That was a pretty song.”

“Don't bother me at all to hold her. She seems peaceful enough.” He shrugged, then caught Minda's eye. “You aren't one of those Temperance ladies, are you, Miz Haynes, who keeps a man from his blackstrap?”

She wasn't, but his almost-kiss still confused and disappointed her, and truth to tell, she resented both feelings. She had every right to obstinate. But as she dared a glance at his face, at the cheekbones carved high and eyes shadowed deep, her heart beat harder than it ever had.

“No, not at all, Mr. Haynes,” she said. “So long as that man doesn't liquor himself up and take it out on a lady.”

Brixton's face darkened. “No real man vents his spleen any place, any time, on a woman, a critter, or a kid.”

His words pleased her, and she felt a bit more friendly toward him.

“We sing that song to cattle, out on the trail,” he said, laying the baby in her bed and heading toward the cupboard. His voice was soft and conversational. He moved like magic and music at the same time, and her skin grew warm.

She looked away from him. Last night, their wedding night, his lips traveling across her flesh, his hands sliding over her body, caused riots in her special places.

Her breath came quick. He was not just a man's man, but a woman's as well. Swallowing hard, she tried to get back to normal.

“Why?”

“Why what?” He poured something thick and dark into a cup.

Was he so unaware of her turmoil? Or had it been just another toss on a bedroll for him? She sighed in disgust, but asked anyway. “Why do you sing to the cows?”

“Lulls them just like kids, keeps them calm. They don't know what's out there in the dark. Anything can spook them into stampede. Striking a match. Kicking a stone. Thunder rolling somewhere far off. Anything.”

Minda raised her eyebrows. There was a lot to cattle driving that she didn't know. Life around here was nothing like Gleesburg. Now she had something out there in the dark to spook her as well.

Outlaws.

“You should know that Katie's right proud of her braid. She said you didn't pull once.”

Shrugging, his shoulders rippled as he raised the cup to his mouth. He moved to the funny X-shaped chair and leaned against the wall. “No different from braiding strips of rawhide into a lariat.”

His indifference infuriated her. He was so blasted off-hand about these children. That reminded her of her latest quest.

“I'm going to need to go to town tomorrow to obtain some sewing supplies.”

“Like hell.” The chair scraped flat on all legs.

“Pardon me, Mr. Haynes?”

“I said
like hell
, ma'am. It's not that I don't adore your company, Miz Haynes, but I got no time to go to town. The more I help with the wheat harvest, the less I got to pay the field hands.”

“I don't need you go to with me. I can ride as well as any man.”

Brix smirked over the baby's head.

“It's true,” Minda said, pulling an angry needle to reunite a button with Ned's shirt. Why should she have to defend herself against this mannerless lout? “I earned money as a girl mucking Mayor Davis's stables. His groom taught me to ride. The mayor was a kind man who let me ride whenever I found the time.”

“There's outlaws about, Miz Haynes,” her husband drawled. “Up to now, they're content with thieving horses. But one of these times they just might want a woman.”

He glared.

“You are not going to town.”

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Chapter Six

“That bird's nest top your head's gonna blow off in this wind.”

Minda turned at the sound of her husband's voice early the next afternoon. She hadn't seen him all day. He must have done his washing up early on, and she admitted to disappointment at not getting to peek again at his bare, manly chest.

At Katie's suggestion, she'd cut some ham at noon and sent it with biscuits out to the men in the fields. Katie explained that Uncle Brix and the other workers weren't expected to come to the table. The children had also carried a pail of water to wash in, and cold water to drink later on.

So why was he in the barn? Neddie had explained there were still acres to harvest. Even at five, the little boy knew more about farming than Minda ever would.

The friendly horse she'd saddled nickered and nibbled at her shoulder. Before she could think of a word to say, Brix came toward her and reached for a homely, wide-brimmed hat hanging on a hook nearby.

He plunked the ugly thing right over the smart little cap she'd made special of real bird feathers and brown lace to match her new suede split riding skirt. Since this was her first real outing in Paradise, she wanted to look her best in front of her new neighbors.

However, she couldn't help wondering if the garment was as scandalous here as it had been back home. Norman Dale's letters had assured her otherwise, explaining the practicality of the people who inhabited the Plains.

Brixton's lips twisted in a little smile that was just like Priscilla's when Neddie tickled her. “Much better. Keep the sun off your face, too.”

Brixton Haynes, her husband, smelling of warm July and the windswept prairie, fastened the ties under her chin. His hot fingers grazed her cheek as he formed the bow, and her heart stopped for a full second.

“You looked just like Priscilla right then,” she said. Lord in heaven, she liked his face and every move it made. Just remembering the heat of him in the winter to come would warm her as much as any Pennsylvania fireplace.

Recalling the movement of his lips upon hers for their first kiss at the altar, and those lips so tantalizingly close yesterday, her breath caught like air on a cold day.

His eyes rolled a bit at her remark, but his cheeks darkened. She knew he was pleased. But then her mood darkened as well. Too bad he was obstinate and ornery without a care for those left in his charge. All this talk of leaving.

“Looks like you're out and about,” he said pleasantly.

Sighing, Minda took a deep breath. Obviously he'd forgotten her trip to town today, and his order against it. She hadn't managed to slip away in time. And now she fully expected an uproar.

She hadn't forgotten about the outlaws on the loose and how they'd unnerved her last night. But if she had to live in Paradise, even temporarily, she might as well conquer her fears. Folks, and especially her husband, need not think she was a fainthearted ninny.

“Yes. I mentioned last night I need to visit the mercantile.”

“And I told you no. Not alone leastways, and I don't have the time to go along. Besides, who's tending the kids?”

“Neddie wore himself out caring for the heifer they're entering in the fair. He's napping now, and Katie's minding Priscilla. I won't be gone all that long. Besides, you're here, too.”

He grumbled deep down, but didn't utter any real words or any kind of protest. Was it possible she'd won him over?

“As I say, I'll be back in plenty of time to start supper. And I won't get lost.” Not with the sun to guide her instead of the hills and valleys of Pennsylvania.

“Silly been eating today?” Brixton asked.

Minda shook her head with a twinge of worry. “Not much. She is a bit feverish, but Katie thinks she might be ‘growing teeth inside her mouth’ and that makes her puny. While I'm in town, I'll see if the doctor's in.”

As she led the horse outside, Brixton followed. At least Norman Dale's wife had had the sense not to go sidesaddle, for she was sure the dainty saddle had belonged to Ida Lou.

Her husband's eyes narrowed. “So you didn't make Silly that willow bark tea?”

She turned from him. Of course she hadn't. She would never experiment on such a tiny soul with something so primitive. If the doctor wasn't in, she would surely obtain some civilized medicines at the mercantile.

“Please, Brixton. The children will be fine. I just need to feel the wind on my face and get some fresh air in my lungs.” That was the most important reason of all. She hadn't been away from the homestead or around other grownups for days.

For some reason, her answer seemed to be the right one. He nodded like he might understand. But then he cautioned, “We got no spare coin to buy fancy trinkets for anybody's head.”

“I'll barter for the materials I need.”

He tensed, his eyes narrowed, and she expected the explosion now. “No wife of mine gets anything except by real cash money.”

“No, Brixton. Listen to me. It's an honest transaction.” She pulled from her saddlebag the black velvet cap she'd created back home. The silk plume plumped in the breeze. “This is my version of what's called a Huntley bonnet. My design caused quite a stir back home and became very fashionable. I'll trade it for the things I need. And then, if the mercantile happens to sell this hat, we'll split the price.”

His face was creased with doubt, but she mounted the horse. “That's how it worked with the milliner in Gleesburg.” She looked at him with a dare. “And yes, I know this isn't Gleesburg, but I'm going to try anyway. Good-bye. I'll be back soon.”

“All right by me, then.” Brixton shrugged. “Strawberry's lady-broke. Gentle enough for a gal.”

Throwing her husband one last glare, Minda kneed the horse into a firm gallop.

The strawberry gelding didn't have but a mile of prairie under his hooves when Minda heard a rider coming up behind her. Even with outlaws lurking nearby, ready and willing to bully and rob honest folks, she felt not a single qualm. She knew right off who her follower was.

Her husband.

When he drew abreast, she tossed her head and raced the wind. She beat him into Paradise with a glow of satisfaction, then frowned with the realization that he might have let her win.

She dismounted in front of the mercantile and tethered her horse, but he pulled up and doffed his hat.

“Nice riding, Miz Haynes. I'll see what sort of refreshment Skinny Hank has to offer at his establishment, then see if the doc's back. But don't be long. You and me, we'll be having another shooting lesson this afternoon.”

And from the way he said it, she knew exactly what he meant. The almost-kiss needed to be completed. Her spine tingled just thinking about the deed.

* * * *

As Minda opened the door to Hackett's Mercantile, cool air from inside brushed her face. Elsewhere, however, a heat simmered where the shimmying tingles had settled.

Her husband sauntered to the saloon, his backside swaying above his boot heels. The deliciousness of the movement warmed her through and through.

Made her giddy as wine punch.

To calm herself, she paused to use the window as a mirror, pulled off the big hat and re-arranged her chignon around the dainty feathered cap.

Behind the counter was a man she didn't recognize. To be sure, she had a long way to go before she could set straight in her brain all the faces and names she'd met at her wedding. But the mercantiler she had remembered; his pleasant fleshy face reminded her of Gleesburg's mayor. His wife had been just as jolly and plump.

This tall, well-constructed man was far younger, with brown hair perfectly styled with macassar oil, just as handsome in his way as Brixton was in his. His gray-striped wool trousers and vest seemed better suited for a Pennsylvania businessman than one here on the prairie. A trim mustache sat above his smile and a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles added a touch of mystery to his eyes.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Haynes. Welcome.”

She hesitated. Obviously he'd recognized her, probably even attended the wedding. Could he tell she was still untouched?

Could anybody? In Gleesburg, a bride would likely not be shopping in public this soon. She might entertain friends after a week or so, but only by sending out her at-home cards first.

But, Minda reminded herself for the one-hundredth time, she wasn't in Gleesburg any more.

Leaving the counter, the young man came toward her and offered a suave little bow. “I'm Caldwell Hackett. At your service.”

The mercantiler's son?

“I'm happy to make your acquaintance,” Minda said, delighted with his manners. “I need some aconite for fever, but I also have a transaction to discuss with Mrs. Hackett, if you please.”

“Oh, I can help in any way you need. I've got full authority. My mother's in bed with a megrim and Papa can't leave his garden these days. He's growing some mighty squashes to enter in the county fair and treats them like kin.”

Minda laughed, remembering Ned's diligence with the heifer. He had asked to sleep in the barn to sing lullabies to her, once he'd learned that his Uncle Brix sang to cattle. She just might let him. The nights were hot, and Brix slept outside ten feet away.

“Yes, my...” She started to tell Caldwell Hackett about Ned but for a second, didn't know quite how to describe him. Neddie wasn't her stepson, as if she'd married Norman Dale. But Brix was his uncle, so that must make her an aunt. “My nephew is totally enamored of his heifer.”

“Norman Dale left behind some grand youngsters.” Caldwell peered over his spectacles. “I help out here at the store in the summers, but my true calling is schoolmaster. I've been to university, but Paradise will always be home. The children will come to school in the fall, yes?”

Of course. So this was the schoolmaster who claimed Katie had a fine brain. “Absolutely, Mr. Hackett. In fact, I've got designs to get Katie into college later on. There's a fine institution in Gettysburg, and there are others, of course, that admit females.” She peered back with apology. “I regret that she's had to miss schooldays in the past. That won't happen again.”