The Barefoot Bride (10 page)

Molly ushered the three children outside, where Seth and Ethan were just finishing.

“There's plenty of room for everyone in the buggy,” Seth said. “You might have to sit close.”

Patch scowled at Whit, and he frowned back.

Seth didn't miss the exchange and said, “I don't want to see any more fighting between the two of you. If you've got differences, find
a way to settle them peaceably, or I'll settle them for you. Do you both understand me?”

“Yes, Pa,” Patch muttered.

“You're not my father,” Whit said. “And I don't have to do what you say!”

Rather than say anything, Seth simply walked away to make sure the buggy was hitched up properly. Seth knew he couldn't win that kind of argument. So he refused to engage in it. He fiddled with the harness until he was ready once again to face his new fam-

iiy.

But he found it hard to believe the situation in which he now found himself.

When Seth had first imagined the drive home from Fort Benton with his mail-order bride, he had thought it might be an awkward trip. After all, he'd be sitting in the front seat with his new wife, and his daughter would end up being a twelve-year-old chaperone in the buggy's back seat. As it turned out, the drive was every bit as awkward as he had expected, but for a very different reason.

In order to ensure peace on the trip, he put Patch beside him in the front seat. Whit, Nes-sie, and his new bride sat in back. At first Seth tried to carry on a conversation with Molly, but he was forced to turn around to
hear her reply or let her talk to the back of his head. Neither alternative was comfortable, so he soon fell silent.

Every time Seth turned to check on them, Molly gave him what she hoped was a bright smile but knew must look more like a grimace. So many feelings were struggling for dominance within her that she only felt anxious and wished the trip were over. The grassy prairies were endless, and the mountains seemed very far in the distance.

Molly thought she heard Seth sigh with relief when a peak-roofed log cabin came into sight. A thin stream of white smoke drifted from a stone chimney at one end of the house.

“We're almost home,” Seth announced. “It won't be long now.”

The time went more quickly when they could see their destination, and very soon Seth was helping Molly down in front of her new home. As his letter had promised, it was nestled in a copse of cottonwood along a creek. There was also a pond not far from the house.

“I know it isn't much,” Seth found himself saying.

“It's fine,” Molly replied as she took the
three steps up onto a shaded front porch that ran the length of the cabin in front.

Seth opened the door, but before she could walk through it, he scooped her up into his arms.

“Every bride should be carried over the threshold,” he whispered to her.

Molly lowered her eyes, moved by his gesture. Then he set her down, and it was a good thing she was feeling in charity with him. Because what she saw was enough to make any woman turn tail and run the other way.

The house was split in half. A log wall to the left had two doors built into it that were closed. The righthand side of the house, the one onto which the front door opened, was all one room. It apparently served as parlor, dining room, office, and kitchen combined.

In the center of the room stood a scarred maple table and four mismatched chairs. The sideboard on the righthand wall was filled with an odd assortment of half-empty medicine bottles. A rolltop desk had been shoved half-open to reveal a clutter of papers and medical books. It was situated on the front wall and looked out a window that provided a vista of the mountains.

Along the back wall was a sink with an indoor pump—a real luxury, Seth assured her.
There was also a new four-hole stove he'd had shipped up from St. Louis when he'd found out she was coming. To the right of the stove was a window with a view of the cot-tonwoods that lined the creek. To the left of the sink was a back door leading to what she could see through the window was another shaded porch.

There was no decoration in the room, nothing on the walls, nothing to ameliorate the bleakness of the place and label it a home. The crackling fire Ethan had lit in the stone fireplace was the only spot of cheer in the room.

“Pa and I neatened up the house for you,” Patch said.

“I can see that.” Dirty dishes were stacked neatly in the sink. A heap of dirty clothes were layered neatly over a dining-room chair. A pile of dirt had been swept into the corner of the wooden-planked floor and hidden neatly behind the broom. “You did a fine job of neatening things up,” she said with a perfectly straight face.

“We sure don't need you,” Patch pointed out belligerently.

“But two hands make the load lighter, don't you agree?” Molly asked.

As she focused on the two closed doors on
the opposite side of the room, it dawned on Molly that the house had only two bedrooms. Where were they all going to sleep? As Seth opened the door to what he described as “his” bedroom, the same thought seemed to occur to him.

As he stepped to the other door he said, “This is Patch's room.” He looked at the three children who stood huddled before him, then back at the room. Daylight was fading fast. A decision had to be made. So he said, “Nessie can share with Patch.”

“Durned if she will!” Patch retorted. She ran to stand protectively in her doorway. “I don't want that baby in here breaking my things, Pa.”

“Look, Patch—” Seth cajoled.

“What about Whit?” Molly asked, trying to keep her growing apprehension out of her voice. “Where is he supposed to sleep?”

Seth was silent a moment. “I guess he can sleep in the barn until—”

“The barn!” Whit and Molly shouted together.

“Just until I get another room built.”

“Absolutely not!” Molly said. “My son sleeps in the house.”

“Where?” Seth asked pointedly, his eyes going
first to one bedroom door, then to the next.

Molly folded her arms across her chest. “You and Whit can share one room. “Patch, Nessie, and I will share the other.”

“The hell you will!” Seth retorted.

“That's telling her, Pa!” Patch chimed in.

Seth marched over to stand in front of Molly. “You're my wife. You'll sleep with me.”

“And Whit will sleep where?” Molly asked.

“He can go stay with Ethan,” Seth suggested, trying to rein his temper.

“And where, exactly, is that?”

Patch piped up, “Ethan has a cabin just beyond the trees. It's about a five-minute walk from here.”

Molly met Seth's gaze and said flatly, “No. That's too far away. My son stays in the same house with me.”

Seth shook his head in disgust. “Hellfire.”

Molly put her hands on Nessie's ears. “Remember you are in the presence of children of tender years,” she admonished.

“Hellfire and damnation!” he roared, at the end of his patience.

“That's telling her, Pa!” Patch chortled with glee.

Molly opened her mouth to give Seth a piece of her mind and let out a scream instead.
Something furry had just rubbed against her leg! She jumped straight up in the air and threw her arms around Seth's neck. “There's something”—she gasped—”something's in here! Let me go! I have to save Nes-sie. Run, Whit!”

Nessie began to cry, and Whit backed toward the front door, eyes wide for the demon that had frightened his mother.

“Hellfire and damnation,” Seth repeated. “Patch, get that raccoon out of here.”

Molly gasped. “Raccoon?”

“Come on, Bandit. It's about time I put you to bed.” Patch scooped the perfectly tame animal up into her arms. Its bushy, black-ringed tail promptly curled around her neck.

Molly watched in amazement as Patch disappeared into her room with the small, black-masked creature. She turned stunned brown eyes to Seth. “She keeps a raccoon in her bedroom?”

“It was sucking eggs in the henhouse,” Seth explained.

“So she made a pet of it?” Molly asked incredulously.

“Can I see the raccoon?” Whit asked. “Do you think Patch will show it to me?”

“I want to see the raccoon,” Nessie said.

Molly shook her head in disbelief.

Seth took command of the situation, ushering her two children into Patch's room. “The Gallaghers want to meet Bandit. Why don't you introduce him while I talk to their mother?”

Seth didn't really give his daughter any choice, leaving the room and shutting the door behind himself. He marched over to Molly and took her by the elbow, then walked her over and sat her down in the chair behind his desk. Then he went around the room lighting lanterns to stave off the dark.

“I think we better have a talk,” he said. He took a spread-legged stance in front of the stone fireplace.

Molly sat stiffly on the swivel chair, her hands folded tightly in her lap.

“I hadn't counted on you having any children,” Seth admitted. “If I'd known about them, I might have made some arrangements.” He raised an accusing brow. “However, since I didn't, it appears we'll have to manage as best we can until Ethan and I can get another bedroom built.”

Molly took a deep breath and let it out. “I won't be able to sleep unless I know my children are under the same roof as I am.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“You and Whit can share your room. Patch, Nessie, and I will manage in Patch's room.”

Seth shook his head no. “I don't think Patch will go for it.”

“Patch is a child. She'll do as she's told,” Molly said, exasperated.

“That's what you think,” Seth muttered.

Molly folded her arms across her chest. “That's my final offer.”

That was her
only
offer, Seth thought ruefully. He was more frustrated than he could remember being in a long time. He wanted Molly in
his
bedroom
alone.
It wasn't that he'd been that long without a woman. He'd seen Dora Deveraux not more than a week ago. But he wanted Molly. And his best estimate on building another bedroom onto the house was a good two to three weeks. He had no intention of waiting that long to bed the woman he had just made his wife.

So be it. There were other places they could use for a marriage bed. A stack of hay in the barn or a grassy spot beneath the cot-tonwoods would do just as well. He would find the time and choose the place. And make her his.

“Shall we go tell the children our decision?” he said.

“All right.”

When Seth opened Patch's door, he wasn't sure what to expect. To his surprise, Nessie was sitting cross-legged on the foot of Patch's four-poster bed. Whit and Patch were hunkered down in the corner beside the raccoon's box.

“Patch. Whit.”

The two of them stood and faced Seth. “Molly and I have talked it over, and we've come to a decision. Whit and I will share my room, while Molly and you girls will sleep in here.”

“This is my bedroom!” Patch protested.

“Don't argue,” Seth said in a no-nonsense voice.

“I won't stay here with them,” Patch said. Before Seth realized what she was going to do, she slipped out the open bedroom window and was gone.

“Aren't you going after her?” Molly asked.

Seth shrugged. “She's just going to Ethan's place. She'll come home when she gets over being mad.”

Molly put a hand on his arm and felt his muscles tense beneath her fingers. “I'm sorry for all the trouble. I'll make it up to you. I promise.”

Seth sighed. “I'll go get the trunks.” A few minutes later he was back. Molly marveled at
his immense strength as he set two huge trunks down lightly on Patch's floor. Seth crossed to the door, then turned and said, “You come when you like, Whit. But once I'm in bed, the lanterns go out, and it'll be dark finding your way.”

A second later Whit followed Seth out the door.

Molly was in awe of the way Seth had manipulated her son without forcing a confrontation. But then, as she was quickly learning, that was his way.

“I'm tired, Mama,” Nessie said, yawning hugely.

“I'm not surprised, darling. It's time we all went to bed. If I'm not mistaken, morning comes very early in Montana.”

Molly found a nightgown for Nessie and tucked her in, all the time wondering how Whit was getting along. She knew he would be mortified if she came and tucked him in, but all the same she missed the traditional bedtime ritual. How quickly their lives had changed!

Once Nessie was settled, Molly undressed and put on a warm flannel nightgown. She honestly tried to sleep, but the foreign night sounds she heard through the open window kept her awake. After shifting and tossing for
an hour, she decided enough was enough. The house was quiet, and as stealthily as a thief, she stole from her bedroom out the front door to the porch. She had just sat down on the steps when a hand clamped down on her shoulder. Another hand quickly clamped over her mouth, cutting off her scream.

Molly fought like a wildcat, writhing and clawing and kicking against the hands that held her. At last she began to tire, and the hissing sounds she had been hearing through a haze of terror took form as words.

“I'm not going to hurt you. Settle down before you wake up the whole house.”