Sixteen Brides (19 page)

Well. At least he has that right.
“Linney’s a wonderful girl,” Caroline said.
Thanks to Martha.

Matthew nodded. “All the credit for that goes to Will and Martha.” He looked down at the hat in his hands. “And her ma. She’s a lot like her ma.”

“So I’ve heard,” Caroline said. And then for some reason she waded right into a situation that was really none of her business. “Linney thinks that’s why you can’t stand to be around her.”

Mr. Ransom frowned. “Can’t . . . stand . . . ?”

“Yes. After you laid Lucas Gray out cold on the mercantile floor, Linney told me you don’t like being around her too much because of how much she reminds you of your wife. Of course, I told her she must have misunderstood the real reason behind your bein’ gone for—what is it now—nearly a week? I told her a daddy would never punish a child like that. That havin’ a living, breathing reminder of someone you deeply loved would be a wonderful thing. Like a gift from God.”

“A gift.” Ransom murmured the words, as though he’d never thought of them before.

“Well, hello there, Matthew.” Otto Ermisch strode up and offered his hand. “Glad to see you back in town.” He nodded at the pack mule. “Looks like you brought just about everything.”

Ransom nodded and handed Ermisch the paint’s reins before untying the pack mule’s lead. “I’ll walk Barney around back. I can unload things right in the door that way.”

Ermisch smiled. He glanced at Caroline. “This man is the best carpenter I’ve ever seen. You ladies need anything done for that new place of yours, Matthew here is the one to hire. Wagon building, shingle cutting—anything that involves wood, he’s a master.”

He turned back to Ransom. “I’ll put this guy in that back stall for the night and give him a real good rubdown. You can just turn Barney into the corral out back. There’s fresh water and I’ll get some feed before too much longer.”

Mr. Ransom nodded. “I was . . . uh . . . hoping I could hire a buggy tomorrow.” He glanced Caroline’s way even as he spoke to Ermisch. “I’ve been gone without an explanation for nearly a week, and I may have to hog-tie her to get her to do it, but I want to take Linney to see what Jeb Cooper has done with the homestead. And with her ma’s grave.” He paused, then directed his next comment to Caroline. “It seemed like a good idea to do something about all the promises I’ve made over the years.” He pointed to the pack mule’s load. “My things from the dugout. Vernon Lux next door offered to let me stay in the back room of his store. It’s not what I promised—yet—but it’s a beginning.”

Something in the man’s blue eyes as he looked down at her made Caroline forget for the moment that Matthew Ransom represented one long list of problems she wanted nothing to do with. She almost reached over to touch his arm, but instead she clasped her hands behind her and said simply, “Linney will be thrilled.”

“Will Haywood told me about Cooper’s fence around Katie’s grave,” Ermisch said. “The man who would do something like that— well. Some say Cooper’s a little odd. But I say he’s all right. More than all right.” Ermisch rubbed his jaw with the back of his hand as he said, “Now, about the buggy tomorrow . . . Mrs. Jamison and the other ladies spoke for it most every day—”

“—we’ll be fine,” Caroline interrupted. “We can manage with a wagon or two. No one will mind. We’re . . . partial to Linney.”

“Well, then.” Ermisch nodded. “That’s settled.” He called back to Jackson, who was still rubbing behind the mare’s ears while she stood, eyes half closed. “Here ya go, son,” he said, and handed Jackson the reins to Ransom’s paint.

Jackson’s eyes grew round as he stared up at the horse.

“He won’t bite,” Ermisch said, and motioned toward the back of the barn. “Just lead him back there to that last stall on the left. I’ll be there directly, and you can help me rub him down.”

Jackson looked embarrassed. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“Well, that’s all right. Patch is a good old boy. Just the kind of horse to learn on. You walk that way and he’ll follow.”

When Jackson hesitated, Caroline spoke up. “If you’re going to own a horse, you’re going to have to be taking care of it. There’s no time like the present to learn.”

“That’s right,” Ermisch said. “Can’t be afraid of hard work if you expect to be around horses.”

“I’m not afraid!” Jackson said, his tone defensive, and he headed toward the stall with Matthew’s horse in tow.

Movement across the street caught Caroline’s eye. Lowell Day was leaning against the front wall of the saloon, his arms folded, his head bowed. He likely wasn’t even looking this way, but the idea of walking back to the Immigrant House alone had lost its appeal. It was probably just her imagination, but just as Matthew headed through the barn and out the back, Caroline could have sworn she heard someone whistling “Dixie.” She decided to walk back through the livery and watch Jackson work with Patch. At least for a while. She’d take the back way to the Immigrant House when the time came.

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

Let them be confounded and put to shame that seek after my soul:
let them be turned back and brought to confusion that devise my hurt.

PSALM 35:4

C
aroline had made her way back to the Immigrant House when clouds moved in and obscured the sunset she’d been watching from the front stoop. When a steady drizzle began to fall and Jackson still hadn’t returned from the livery, she headed inside to the kitchen, where Ruth was busy serving up hot tea while Hettie spread out the various lists again. As the sky grew dark Zita lit more lamps and set them in a row down the center of the table. Presently all six ladies gathered for the last meeting before Monday’s move out to the Four Corners.

Caroline spoke first. “The horse trader hasn’t come through yet, so I don’t have any good news to report about a team. Mr. Ermisch is hoping maybe Monday—of course, with us leaving early that mornin’ I guess we’d better hope plenty of neighbors show up to help us out, or we’ll be in a fix.” She sat back with a little frown. “Do y’all think we should delay leavin’ town until we have our own team?”

“Will says we can count on plenty of help,” Ella said.

The back door opened, and Mavis Morris trundled in. “What you can count on,” she said abruptly, “is getting work and husbands right here in Plum Grove. Mrs. Haywood needs help and so will the other business owners the minute those places across the street open up. There’s just no need for y’all to pick up and move out to the middle of nowhere.”

“Well, now, Mavis,” Sally said. “You’re just missin’ one little thing, and that’s the fact that we don’t want ‘jobs and husbands right here in Plum Grove.’ ”

“That’s what you all keep saying.” Mavis shook her head. “I guess you’re gonna prove it or die trying.” She changed the subject. “You might as well know Martha’s appointed me manager of the Immigrant House.” She glanced around the table. “And I’ll need a cook or two to keep things running, so if any of you has a moment of sanity and decides to stay put, just let me know.” She walked toward the doorway on the north wall leading into a small storeroom. “I’m turning the back room into my private quarters. So I’ll be working at that while you all have your meeting.” She headed for the storeroom, talking as she moved. “Don’t mind me. I don’t need any help at all. I can handle things just fine by myself. All I have to do is move one of the cots in here. And my trunk. It won’t take long—”

With a roll of her eyes, Sally stood up. “I’ll lend a hand, Mavis. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Now, now, don’t feel obligated,” Mavis said, even as she turned about and handed Sally the bag she’d carried in with her. She glanced toward the others. “As to your needing a team, the horse trader came in for a late supper. Said something about a whole string of horses up at the livery.” She paused. “Real nice fellow. Kind eyes.” She glanced at Caroline. “So I expect if a body really wanted to go ahead with homesteading and really wanted a good team, they’d hightail it back to the livery, even if it is raining to beat the band.”

Thanking her, Caroline stood up and excused herself. Retrieving a shawl she headed out the front door. The rain had let up, leaving a swirling mist in its wake that threatened to thicken into an honest-to-goodness fog. But she was
hardy
. A little mud, a little fog . . . no problem. In spite of her best efforts at holding her skirts up and skipping over the worst of the puddles, the hem of her dress was much the worse for the journey from one end of Main to the other.

Mr. Ermisch had pulled the double doors closed as a guard against the rain. Caroline went in the side door and made her way through the gloom and to the back, where after opening another single door, she peered out at the corral. Mavis was right. At least a dozen horses had joined Matthew’s mule in the corral. For the next few minutes Caroline watched them, finally deciding to look more closely at two bay geldings and, if they didn’t prove sound, then the gray mares—by daylight.

Piano music sounded behind her from the direction of the saloon. The noise emphasized the quiet in the barn. Jackson was likely back at the Immigrant House by now. As for Mr. Ermisch, Caroline didn’t know where he spent his hours away from the livery. It didn’t really matter, she supposed. Contented snuffles and soft grunts and the sounds of chewing filled the air now. Time to get back to the meeting with the good news.

As she turned to go, a shrill screech sounded from a stall. Then a kick to a board. Another kick. Another snort. “Hey, boys,” Caroline said. “What’s wrong back here?” She made her way toward the stall where Matthew’s Patch was causing a ruckus, snorting and tossing his head. As Caroline approached, the horse whinnied and whirled about.

“Hey, now. Whoa, there.” Apparently Patch wasn’t accustomed to stalls and stables. Hopefully Mr. Ermisch had realized the horse wasn’t really all that gentle
before
Jackson got kicked. The horse stomped its feet and, stretching its neck out, bared its teeth. “Oh, now, stop that. You don’t want to be that way. Just settle dow—” A gloved hand covered her mouth. An arm encircled her waist and she was lifted from the earth and carried backward. Patch whinnied again. Caroline kicked and squirmed, but whoever it was only held her tighter as he dragged her toward the back corner of the stable. The harder she thrashed, the harder he held on until it felt like he might break every rib and her jaw at the same time.

He smelled of whiskey. Sweat. And . . . as he whispered into her ear, his hot breath carried a hint of . . .
peppermint.
“I been thinkin’ about you since I first saw you. I like a woman with a little spunk. You gave old Lucas Gray a run for his money on the train, didn’t ya?” He nuzzled her ear. “You coulda been a little more sociable at the dance, you know. But you southern gals, you always got to put that little nose of yours in the air. Like you smell something bad when regular folks come around. That’s how you made me feel at the mercantile the other day.” A guttural chuckle. “Don’t mind telling you I couldn’t believe my good luck when I come out of the saloon and saw you comin’ in here all by yourself.”

The man’s hand left her waist and groped higher, but he still managed to keep her arms clamped to her sides. “Now, you and I are gonna get to know one another real well this evenin’. And when I’m done—”

A faint click. And then the sound of Sally Grant’s voice. “You
are
done, you low-down—” She strung an impressive series of descriptive words together before continuing. “Now, here is what you are going to do so that I don’t have to pull this trigger. In just a minute, you are going to let my friend go. And you are gonna move real slow when you do it because this here gun of yours has a hair trigger and it would be a shame if it went off. Now, Caroline, the minute he lets go, I want you to jump clear. But don’t run off. Just wait for me to tell you what to do next. All right?”

Caroline managed muffled agreement.

“All right, then,” Sally said. “You turn Mrs. Jamison loose, now— and be sure your hands go up in the air the minute you do.”

Day loosened his grip and Caroline leaped away. When she spun around she saw his hands in the air, his eyes glittering with rage.

Sally never took her eyes off him as she said, “Now, Caroline. Real slow-like, you take that other gun out of his holster and then back yourself as far into the corner there as you can get. Of course, if you feel inclined to point the gun at him once you’re over there, that’d be just fine, too—as long as you can keep from shooting me.”

Caroline stared at Day’s empty holster. How had Sally done that? How had she managed to take the gun without him reacting . . . without him slapping her away? She hesitated.

“It’s all right. This here gun is a military issue Remington—.44 caliber if I’m not mistaken. It’s a marvel. And this here varmint likely knows that if he moves at all, nervous woman that I am, the darned thing just might go off. And since the barrel is pressed to the back of his head, that wouldn’t be too good for him.”

Caroline looked past Day and into Sally’s eyes. She didn’t look nervous. She looked deadly. Sally nodded. “You can trust me. Just get the other gun.” Caroline snatched the pistol out of its holster and backed away. She had no stomach for pointing it at anyone.

“Now,” Sally said to Day, “I’m gonna take a step back. Please do not do anything foolish like trying to run off, because as sure as I know what kind of gun this is in my hand, I know how to use it. And as sure as I don’t
want
to use it, I will if I have to. So we’re gonna walk out that back door and around to the saloon, and you’re gonna mount up and ride away. And you will keep riding, because if you don’t, it will be bad for you. That boss of yours has taken a shine to my friend here, and I don’t think he’d like knowing what you tried just now. So let’s go. Caroline, you might want to follow. It’s up to you.”

Her knees quaking, Caroline followed. Day did exactly what he’d been told. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t try anything, and he didn’t look back as he rode west into the swirling mists. Sally looked down at the gun. “I always wanted me one of these.”

“Here,” Caroline said, and held out its mate. “Now you have two.” She shuddered. “Do you think he’s really gone?”

“Well, I don’t imagine he wants to face a Lucas Gray who knows what he almost done here tonight.”

Caroline wobbled to the watering trough by the corral and perched on the edge, her head in her hands.

“Hey—” Sally sat down beside her, laid the guns down, and put a hand on her shoulder. “You ain’t gonna faint on me, are ya?” She patted Caroline on the back. “Breathe. Come on, girl. Just take in some fresh air.”

Caroline tried, but she couldn’t keep her voice from trembling as she asked, “H-how did you do that? H-how did you get that gun without him even knowing you were there?”

Sally cleared her throat. “Well, I . . . uh . . . I got some talents I don’t use no more. Now that I’m starting fresh.”

“As what—a gunslinger?”

Sally nudged her with an elbow. “ ’Course not.” She scratched her nose. “It weren’t all that different from gettin’ a money clip out of a pocket.” She was quiet for a moment, then murmured, “You won’t tell nobody—will ya?”

Caroline shook her head. She shivered and drew her shawl around her. “It was stupid of me to walk down here alone in the dark like that. I never would have done something like that in St. Louis. I just thought—I guess I’ve thought of Plum Grove as a sleepy little town where nothing bad would happen.”

“Yeah, well . . . I shoulda known better than to let you do it. But I figured it was only a little ways and Jackson would walk you back.” Sally sighed. “But then Jackson popped in the back door after you left, chattering about Linney’s pa and how he’s moved into town and—” She broke off. Shrugged. “It dawned on me just how close the livery is to the saloon and—I don’t know, I just run with my instincts, I guess.”

“Thank God for your instincts,” Caroline said. “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank
you
.”

Sally chuckled. “You did say I could keep the guns, right?”

“Checkmate,” Ermisch said, slapping his knee and laughing.

Matthew leaned back and stared at the board. It was just him and Otto tonight, playing chess in the back corner of the mercantile, and Matthew was glad. He didn’t need witnesses to the wholesale defeat Otto had handed him three times now. He shook his head.

“You’re just rusty,” Ermisch said, chuckling. “Give yourself a week or so, and it’ll be you hollering checkmate and me wondering how it happened.” He stretched, then pointed to the board. “Go again?”

Matthew nodded. “Set it up. I’ll be right back.” He headed out back, pausing in the clear night air, inhaling the scent of clean grass, wishing for the silence of the landscape outside the dugout. Tilting his head, he listened. He could hear Patch all the way at this end of Main.

Otto had followed him outside. He lit a cigar. “Old Patch hasn’t been in a barn in a long time. There’s bound to be some noise while he finds his place in the pecking order. He’ll settle in before long. I’ll check in on him before I turn in tonight.”

“It’s all right,” Matthew said. “You set up the board. I’ll go see if I can’t calm him down. Be right back.”

“Take a gander at the corral, too. They’re probably milling around— could be what’s got Patch all riled up.”

Matthew was halfway to the livery and behind Lux’s implement shop when he thought he heard a woman’s voice from the direction of the street. Plum Grove might be mostly good people, but a woman shouldn’t be out alone. A little yelp sounded just as he stepped out of the shadows and onto the boardwalk in front of the implement store.

As he turned toward the yelp something flashed, and without thinking he crouched down and snatched the bowie knife from where he kept it tucked into the top of one boot.

“Mr. Ransom? Is that you?”

The voice and the gun didn’t match. Matthew blinked. It made no sense, but there was Sally Grant. Lowering a gun. And Caroline beside her.