The Convenient Mail Order Bride (11 page)

“Yes, I’m sure,” he replied. “I’ve spent
nights out here when it was chillier than this.”

“Oh? When?”

“When I was growing up.” It was better to be
out here than in the house when his father came to spend the night
with his mother. Before she could wiggle this information from him,
he said, “I’ll walk you back to the cabin.”

He made a move to get up, but she put her
hand on his arm, stopping him. “Can I stay a little longer? It’s
peaceful out here.”

“But I thought you were cold.”

“It doesn’t feel cold when I’m with
you.”

“Alright.” He settled back to where he’d
been sitting before. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to linger
out here. It was quiet. In many ways, it was soothing. “Let me know
when you’re ready to go back.”

“I will.”

She rested her head on his shoulder again
and snuggled against him. “This is a lot different from where I
grew up.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“There were people everywhere. Even at
night, you could hear someone talking on the streets beneath your
apartment window. I didn’t know a place could be this quiet.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he
decided to remain silent. If she wanted to say more, she could. But
as it turned out, she grew silent, too. At first, he didn’t care
much for the lack of conversation. As the minutes passed, however,
he got used to it, and soon, he was thinking it was nice to be able
to share a quiet moment with someone else where neither one felt
the need to fill in the silence with idle chatter.

Relaxing, he let out a slow breath. It was a
shame there weren’t more moments like this in life. Too often,
problems kept getting in the way, preventing him from receiving any
enjoyment. He’d had to grow up fast, and he’d learned there was a
lot of sorrow in the world. Pleasant moments, such as this, were
rare. It was just like the times when his mother had held him and
sang one of her songs when he was little. He closed his eyes and
soaked in the experience.

The minutes passed, one easing into another,
and he lost all sense of time. He couldn’t recall a time when he
felt more at peace. His mind wandered, not focusing on any one
thing, except for maybe the sounds around him.

There was no sense of danger. The pots and
pans he’d set up along the property remained untouched. That was
good. The longer the night passed without incident, the better. The
last thought that drifted through his mind was how warm he was
despite sleeping out in the barn.

Chapter Ten

T
he
next morning when Phoebe woke up, she was snuggled up against
someone warm with a solid frame. At first, she thought it was a
dream, but then she became aware of the man’s chest rising and
falling in a smooth and steady rhythm. Her eyes flew open, and she
sat up.

Abe slept on his back, his eyes closed and
his hair loosened from his ponytail. She wanted to touch it, to
find out if it was as soft as it looked. She’d get away with it
much easier while he was sleeping. But even as her fingers itched
to do so, she held back. No, it was best not to do it without him
knowing.

She looked at the barn entrance and saw it
was just past dawn. Good. She might make it back to the cabin
before her mother woke. This, of course, should have been her
primary concern, not the whole matter of touching his hair. She had
her reputation to protect, after all.

Without waking Abe, she wrapped the blanket
around him. Then she climbed down the ladder and hurried out of the
barn, ignoring the impatient neighing and mooing from the animals.
Abe would soon feed them. She’d do it herself if he’d shown her
what to do.

Oh, this was silly. She had more important
matters to tend to. Her mother would be waking up soon. Repeating
this to herself, she hurried through the process of relieving her
bladder. By the time she made it to the cabin, it felt like an
entire hour passed. Realistically, it was probably more like five
minutes. But it was easy to lose the proper perspective of time
when worried someone might catch her doing something improper.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she
opened the door and peered into the quiet cabin. Good. Her mother
wasn’t up yet. Breathing a sigh of relief, she went to the kitchen
and got a pot of coffee started. She was ready to make oatmeal when
she remembered Abe had taken the pots and pans out of the kitchen
yesterday to set up his warning system.

With a frown, she considered her other
options. Pancakes were out of the question, too, but there was some
bread, cheese, and butter. It wouldn’t be the best breakfast, but
until she got her cooking supplies back, it’d have to do.

She had just cut three slices of bread when
she heard her mother’s familiar footsteps. Glancing over her
shoulder, she smiled. “Morning, Ma. Did you sleep well?”

“I did, but I noticed you never made it to
the bedroom,” her mother replied, amusement in her voice.

Phoebe’s face grew warm.

“You’re also wearing Abe’s shirt,” her
mother pointed out.

Gasping, Phoebe looked down at the shirt.
“It’s not what it looks like,” she quickly told her mother, unsure
if her anxious tone made things worse. “After you went to sleep, I
got bored and went to see what Abe was doing. I was cold, so he let
me borrow his shirt. We talked for a while, and then I fell asleep.
I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I didn’t think I was that tired.”

Her mother chuckled and held her hand up to
stop her. “I know you wouldn’t do anything unless you were married.
Besides, you’re not good at lying.”

“I’m not?”

“No. You won’t look me in the eyes if you’re
trying to pull a fast one on me. Now, what are you making for
breakfast?”

Phoebe relaxed. “Just bread, cheese, and
butter. Abe took the pots and pans. He only left this coffee pot.”
She gestured to it. “Coffee should be ready in a few minutes.”

“He doesn’t trust people easily.”

“No, he doesn’t. But after yesterday, I
can’t blame him. Some people really don’t treat him with the same
respect they’d give someone who was fully white.”

“I wish I’d gone with you to town. There’s
power in numbers. I could have hit that Enoch and Benny for the way
they treated you.”

“Thankfully, Abe came just in time.”

“Do you feel better this morning?”

Phoebe nodded. “I still don’t like the idea
of going to town, but yes, I feel better. Abe was there to protect
me.”

“I could tell he was angry about what
happened. I don’t think he’ll leave you alone in town ever
again.”

“No, he probably won’t.”

Once again, she decided not to tell her
mother he was planning to send them back to Ohio. For one, it
wasn’t going to happen. Despite what Abe thought, her mother didn’t
have another long and tedious journey in her. Two, there was
nothing to go back to. And three, having spent time alone with him,
she thought they’d do well together.

Maybe he didn’t see it yet, but she did.
Despite their shaky beginning, she saw a very promising future for
them. She just hoped, in time, he would see it, too.

Phoebe removed the shirt, figuring it best.
She didn’t want Abe to come in for breakfast and worry her mother
might be thinking something happened when it hadn’t. After glancing
around for a suitable place to put it, she finally settled on
setting it in the laundry hamper.

“I know it’s not something we would normally
do at breakfast,” her mother began when Phoebe returned to the
kitchen, “but we can have some pie. Who says you can’t have it
first thing in the morning?”

Grinning at her mother’s question, she said,
“No one. And if anyone disagrees, we don’t have to let them know we
did it.”

Satisfied, her mother hurried to get the
pie.

***

Abe had no idea when Phoebe returned to the
cabin. She might have been foolish enough to do it while it was
still dark. When he saw she and her mother were setting the table,
he relented in reminding her how dangerous it was to be outside by
herself before the sun rose.

Phoebe glanced over at him and smiled, and
something about the way she looked at him made him forget the
admonition on his tongue.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Phoebe began, “but
we’re going to have bread with slices of cheese and butter for
breakfast.”

“And leftover pie for dessert,” her mother
added.

“Right,” Phoebe said. “That, too. The only
pot we could find was the coffee pot. Otherwise, we would have made
something more fitting for breakfast.”

“Oh, the pots and pans.” Abe’s eyes widened.
“I didn’t think to leave a couple here. I’m sorry. Those were the
first things I thought of.”

“No need to apologize,” her mother said. “We
know why you took them, and it was nice of you to protect us.”

“We were just wondering if there’s something
else we can use in their place,” Phoebe added. “Are there any tools
or any other objects you have that will clang together like those
pots and pans do?”

“I’d hate to use the tools,” he replied. “I
need them.” Then, just so they understood he realized they were in
a similar predicament, he amended, “Just as you need pots and
pans.” He shifted from one foot to another as he thought over all
the possible things he might have, but his mind came up blank. He
opened his mouth, ready to tell them this when he recalled Travis
Martin, the town recluse. “Well, there is someone who might have
something I can use. He has a lot of junk no one has any use
for.”

“He collects junk on purpose?” Phoebe
asked.

Amused at the shocked tone in her voice, he
grinned. “He takes old things and creates new things from them.
He’s actually good at it.”

Her mother waved him over to the table. “Do
you have anything he made?”

Obeying her silent invitation to the table,
he sat in one of the chairs but waited for them to sit before he
answered. “Actually, he fixed up a wagon and sold it to me for
cheap. I also got a good trunk in the barn and that worktable,” he
gestured to the table, “from him. He even sold me some of the tools
I use and that coffee pot over there. He can make anything.”

Her mother poured coffee into their cups.
“Sounds like he has a gift.”

He took the cup she handed him and thanked
her before taking a sip. Every time he drank it, it reminded him of
the white men who drank it so much, but, since Phoebe and her
mother seemed to like it, he supposed it wasn’t so bad. Besides,
they had a way of making it that made it taste better than anything
his mother did when she’d make it for his father. It was probably
the bitter connection to his father that bothered him the most when
it came to coffee. Now, at least, he’d have something pleasant to
connect it with.

“I’ll go see Travis today,” he said as he
spread some butter on his slice of bread. “You two will have to go
along with me. I don’t like the thought of you staying here
alone.”

He glanced at them to see if they would
argue with him, but Phoebe smoothed the napkin on her lap and
smiled. “Since you had nice things to say about Travis, we have no
doubt he’s a good man. It’ll be nice to meet a good person while in
town.”

“Well, he doesn’t live in town. He keeps out
of the way, and I don’t know if he’ll let you actually meet him.”
When he noticed their frowns, he quickly added, “He’s terribly shy,
especially around women, and the prettier they are, the worse it
gets for him.” He motioned to them. “You two will intimidate
him.”

“Oh, Abe,” her mother said with a laugh, “I
wouldn’t have taken you for a flirt.” She waved her hand at him,
her cheeks pink.

Not sure what she meant by “a flirt”, he
replied, “Granted, you’re older. You’re Phoebe’s mother, after all,
but it’s easy to see where Phoebe got her good looks.”

This time it was Phoebe who blushed.

For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out
why they should react this way. He glanced at one and then the
other. “I only speak the truth. Don’t any of the white men remark
on your beauty?”

“Not in such a pleasant way,” her mother
replied.

Her mother gave Phoebe a look that implied
something, but he couldn’t be sure what it was. All he knew was
that they were happy with him. He supposed that was good enough. He
turned his attention back to buttering the bread, deciding to put
their secret look aside. Who knew what women were thinking?

The important thing was, they’d all go to
Travis’ together, and with any luck, the trip would be uneventful
and boring. After everything that happened yesterday, he’d welcome
uneventful and boring.

Chapter Eleven