Cinders' Bride: Mail Order Brides of Texas (3 page)

Shannon sat proudly beside her new husband as he maneuvered his team of horses down the street. Now the people who had stared earlier warmed up in Cinders’ presence.

Once out of town, her shoulders relaxed a bit. Until then, she hadn’t realized how wound she’d been. So much had happened in less than twenty-four hours. She touched the bandage with the tips of her work-worn fingers and peered at her husband from the corner of her eye. The brim of his hat shaded his eyes but she knew them to be kind.

He glanced at her and she quickly turned her head to gaze at the countryside. It was beautiful with a mix of green grass, wildflowers and tall trees. The sky looked bigger too. “How long until we get to your place?”

“’bout two hours or so. We should be there before the sun is at its peak.”

Turning to him again, she studied his body as he drove the team down a path carved into the earth by wagon wheels and horses. He had a nice profile. His nose had a slight bump near the top, probably from a fight. His bruised eye was on the other side and she wondered how it faired. His strong jawline and dimpled chin made him endearing. She had to admit he was a fine specimen of maleness. How he ended up as her husband, she still didn’t know. It astounded her, he came to her rescue and then offered to marry her.

It wasn’t a real marriage, but she considered herself lucky that she had some place to go. Shivering, she thought about John Hardy’s duplicity. He had plenty of women at his place, so why send for her? What did he expect she’d do when she found out his true profession? Men ran the world, and she'd bet anything he'd expected her to go along with him regardless of his brutishness.

This was supposed to be her one chance for a happy life. Now that chance was lost. Cinders didn’t want her— he’d simply been backed into a corner by the judge. Her mother had always chastised her for living in a dream world. Now she knew the words to be truth. Reality set in the moment her parents had died.

There were no happy endings, and it didn’t help to dream of things that could never be.

“We’ll be to the house soon. We’re on my land now.” The pride in his voice was impossible to miss.

“It’s lovely. How long have you lived here?”

“All my life.”

“Did you fight in the war? I mean if you did, I wouldn’t hold being a confederate against you.”

The edges of his lips twitched. “That’s mighty kind of you, Shannon, seeing as you’re in Texas now and all.”

Her eyes widened as the realization of how inappropriate her words were sank in. “I’m sorry. My side has been trying to kill your side and it never occurred to me until now. But truthfully so many of our men never came home the marriage prospects dwindled.”

“I didn’t fight.”

“Why not? Do you have something wrong with you I can’t see?”

Cinders laugh started deep and low, rumbling from his chest. “Not that I know of. The Texas government requested I stay and provide meat for the cause. I accepted but as money grew tight my profits dwindled. Eventually I had no buyers but I did have plenty of people who needed food. It hasn’t been easy but the herd has grown and I’m planning to drive my cattle north to sell this time.”

“Did you give people food?”

“I sold some in New Orleans but yes, I gave a lot away. I couldn’t stand to watch my neighbors’ families starve. I had a roof over my head and enough to feed my men. I don’t need a lot.”

Her admiration for him grew stronger— perhaps he was one of those good doers. He helped her when he could have just walked away.

“Whoa,” Cinders yelled as he stopped the team. “This, Mrs. Cinders, is your first view of your new home.”

To her relief the house was made of wood. She’d heard about the sod houses. There was a barn and a few other buildings dotting the area. Warmth flowed through her as she took in the sight of her new home. Relief overcame her. “It’s beautiful.”

He nodded with a satisfied expression. “That’s what I always think when I get to this point on my way home.”

He picked up the reins and off they went. The house was bigger than she realized as they stopped in front of it. It was a fine log house and it looked safe and sturdy. Things were looking up.

Cinders jumped down, walked to her side and held out his hand. She grasped it and the next thing she knew she was in his strong arms. He held her for a moment staring into her eyes, and then gently put her down.

A young man walked out of the barn, whistling. He grabbed the reins and nodded to Cinders. He seemed to be bigger than Cinders with brown hair and dark brown eyes, which were now trained on her. His whistling stopped and his jaw dropped. “You finally found us some entertainment? I know I mentioned it a time or two, but I never thought you’d do it. Now we won’t have to go to town so often, we’ll have our own gal to give us relief. What’s wrong with her face? Is she hiding a wart under that bandage?”

She gasped and her hand instantly lay on her cheek.

“Tramp, this is my wife, Shannon.” His voice was slow and steady but the warning was clear.

Tramp didn’t apologize or acknowledge her, but kept his gaze on Cinders. “Sure, Boss, just glad you’re back.”

“I’ll be out in a few,” Cinders said.

Tramp shrugged. “Take your time.” He then winked at her when Cinders wasn’t paying attention.

She’d have to put him on her list of lowdown snakes. The list only had John Hardy on it and now there were two names. She hoped her list didn’t grow any longer.

Cinders grabbed her reticule out of the wagon and led her to the front door. He opened it and ushered her in. “I, um, I didn’t expect to have a guest. It’s a busy time of year.”

She winced in pain when she tried to smile. “It’s fine. Nothing some soap, water, a duster and broom won’t fix. It’s lovely actually.”

“I built it myself.”

“You did a great job, Mitch.”

“Mitch?” His eyebrows rose.

“I’m trying out first names for you. I figure if I keep at it I’ll get it right.”

“You’ve had a bad few days yet you still are able to find humor. I think we’ll get on just fine. Make yourself at home. The bedroom is through the door on the right. If you need, well if you need the necessary, the outhouse is out the back door. I’ll bring in some water for you in a bit and I’ll send Cookie in to help you put away the grub I bought at the mercantile.” He hesitated as though he was afraid to leave her alone.

“I’ll be fine. I’m sure you have a cow or two to milk or something.”

He laughed. “There you go with that sense of humor. Okay, I’ll be by in a bit.”

The door closed behind him as she made mental note. He doesn’t milk cows.

Chapter Two

Cookie muttered when he brought in the supplies. He muttered while putting things away and he really muttered when he grabbed the things Shannon had put away and put them where he thought best.

They didn’t talk to each other and she was beginning to get annoyed. She was the wife of the house and she could arrange the kitchen the way she wanted. But she bit her tongue the whole time Cookie muttered.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“Are you offering or ordering some?”

Putting her hands on her hips, she stared him down. She wasn’t sure if her stare worked on grouchy old cowboys, but it did work in New York City.

“What’s that look for? Got you skirts all twisted or something?”

Gasping, she grabbed the coffee beans. She meant to make it all along. How can one person be so infuriating? “You know, you haven’t said one word to me this whole time. And don’t think I can’t hear you muttering about interfering women because I can. No my skirts are not in a twist and no I’m not ordering you around. I wouldn’t even know how to act if someone made coffee for me. I’m usually the one who does for others.” Her face heated as she tried to curb her temper.

“Kinda feisty aren’t ya?”

“Listen Mr. Cookie— what? Why are you laughing?”

“It’s Cookie, no mister. I do believe that boy has finally found a good match. Yes you will do just fine.” He smiled until his dimples showed.

“I’m glad to meet you approval.” She put down the coffee, turned and picked up her bag, then marched into the bedroom and slammed the door. The resulting laughter had her shaking her head. “Grouchy old bear.”

After she set her bag on the floor, a feeling of unease come over her. There were woman’s things in the room. A brush sat on the top of the trunk at the end of the big bed, along with lace handkerchiefs and a small bottle of lilac water. Curious, she opened the big oak trunk and her blood ran cold. It contained women and baby clothes. He'd never mentioned a wife.

Closing the trunk, she sat on the bed. In fact, she didn’t know anything about her husband including his first name. Then again, she thought she knew John Hardy through his letters, but it was all a lie. She was in no position to be hurt, but Cinders should have mentioned being married before.

It really wasn’t her business. After all, he'd never made her any promises and they both knew the marriage wasn’t real, only an arrangement for her protection. He married her to keep her safe, not because he cared for her. Her present circumstances were far better than John Hardy and far better than what she left behind in New York City- a life of poverty, crime and forced prostitution.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and sucked in a deep breath. She’d made it out of the city despite all the challenges. Standing up, she walked to the window and gazed out at all the empty land. It was very different from the tenements she’d lived in with her parents. She had longed for a family with children, but he’d made it clear he didn’t share her longing.

She’d make a different dream, just one without babies. Breathing in the clean air was a novelty. Happiness was hers if she wanted it; and she wanted it.

A knock on the door startled her and she turned from the window. Cinders stood in the doorframe with a heavy metal bathing tub in his hands.

“I brought water in and it’s heating. I thought you’d like a bath.” His face reddened as he gazed at her.

“Oh, my, yes. I’d love a bath. Thank you.” She started to smile, but ended up wincing.

“Just don’t get your stitches wet. Actually, I don’t know how you’d keep it dry. Maybe a bath isn’t the best idea.” He shook his head slowly.

“I can make it work, Cinders. Besides you can’t offer a woman the luxury of a bath then change your mind.”

“I suppose you got me there.” He set the tub on the floor. “I thought it would be better in here since the men are always in and out. Cookie said he had a great time with you.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Really? I got the impression he didn’t like me.”

Chuckling, he headed to the door, then stopped and turned. “He does that to everyone. I should have warned you. I’ll get the water.”

He was going to get the water? Her father would have considered it a woman’s job. Real baths almost never happened- it was usually a basin of cold water and a sliver of soap.

“Here’s the last one.” Cinders poured the steaming water into the half-f tub and left a wooden bucket filled with hot water next to the bath. “You can rinse off with the water in the bucket.” He gave her a slight smile. “I’ll let you have your privacy.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

The invitation of the bath enticed her and she shed her clothes in seconds. Stepping into the tub was pure heaven while sliding down into the water was ecstasy. On the other side of the tub lay a towel with a bar of soap on it. Gingerly she reached out and picked it up, her mouth formed an o as she studied it. The soap was brand new. Never in her life had she been the first to use a bar of soap.

She quickly lathered her body, being extra careful not to get her bandage wet. Washing her hair had been a bit precarious but she managed by holding the towel over her cheek. Finally, the water cooled and she reluctantly got out. Even the towel was soft as she dried herself extra well. How exhilarating to have the dirt from the city washed off for good.

The throbbing of her cheek worsened as she stood and the temptation to examine her cheek under the bandage was great, but for now, what she didn’t know would be best. She had a good idea what the puckered scar would look like once it healed. There were always knife wounds to tend to back home— in fact, she and her mother had stitched her dad up more than once. It was a hard existence living in the tenements of New York City.

Out of her bag, she pulled carefully mended underclothes and a plain gray dress. To her dismay, it was beyond wrinkled. It looked as though horses’ hooves had trampled it but there was no way to iron her clothes. It wasn’t as though she had a choice. She quickly dressed and braided her wet hair. The house needed cleaning and a meal needed to be cooked. There was no way she was giving Cinders a reason to send her back.

****

A couple of hours later, Cinders ambled through the front door expecting to see Shannon resting. Instead, she was standing on a chair reaching for something in the pantry. “Shannon?” he walked quickly to her side and lifted her down. “What are you doing?

His eyebrows rose, as he looked her over. Who knew a bath could make such a difference. She was as shiny as a brand new nail with her porcelain skin, bright brown eyes fringed with thick dark lashes and her rose red lips. He hadn’t noticed before just how damn attractive she was. The ugly dress she wore didn't hinder her looks, but he guessed she didn’t have the best taste if she chose to wear that gray dress. She was well proportioned in all the right places and he felt a jolt of desire within him.

“Short little thing aren’t you?”

She peered up at him and shrugged. “Shorter than you, but taller than many people. In fact I’ve never been called short before.”

He frowned. He never said the right thing where women were concerned, and try as he might; he could never get the hang of it. “I just don’t want you falling. I mean, you were knifed just yesterday and you should be resting is all.”

She gazed into his eyes as though she was trying to read his mind. “I’m feeling fine and I want to earn my keep. Plenty needs to be done around here. It won’t get done if I’m resting.”

“I’d rather you got well first. I already lost one wife, and I’m not up for losing another.” His voice trailed off.

“Another wife or death?”

“Wife. That's why I was reluctant to marry you when the judge first suggested it. I don’t know if I have it in me to love again. I’m sorry, I know you were hoping for more, but I couldn’t leave you in John Hardy’s hands.”

Her shoulders slouched and she looked as though the wind had been knocked out of her. The sudden sadness in her brown eyes ate at him, so he turned away.

“Cinders, I understand. I’m just grateful to have a roof over my head.” She sighed. “Perhaps you’re right, I should rest.”

He nodded, his back still to her, and listened as her footsteps faded. He took his brown hat and threw it on the counter. What had he been thinking when he agreed to marry again? He should have looked for someone else to marry her. Charlotte died four months ago and he had nothing left in his heart to give to a new wife. Inspecting the cooking area, he couldn’t believe how clean it all was. Shannon was a good worker. He had to give her that.

Pouring himself some coffee, he wondered what he was supposed to do now. Glancing at the closed bedroom door, he wanted to kick himself for not thinking about the consequences. There was only one bed. He drank his coffee down, set the tin cup on the counter, and picked up his hat. There was a whole lot to figure out before nightfall.

Jamming his hat on his head, he left the house. They’d have to work something out, perhaps a friendship, eventually. John Hardy said she’d been a whore and that was the real reason she came to Texas. Hardy still wanted reimbursement for the ticket he'd bought her. They were lies, weren’t they? She certainly didn’t dress like a whore.

He planned to stay close to the house today in case Shannon needed anything. There were plenty of chores to keep him busy. The men were out on the range tending to the cattle and he had a couple horses to saddle break. He headed toward the corral and leaned on the wooden fence to study the two geldings. The bigger one was a sorrel and a bit high strung. The other was a paint, seeming calm already.

“What should I name you?” The paint wandered over to him while the sorrel studied him from a distance. “I’ll get back to you on the names. I have a lot on my mind.”

Once back in the barn, he grabbed a blanket, saddle, and halter when he heard the sound of a buggy on his property.
Damn, now what
? Putting everything back, he walked outside and instantly recognized the buggy coming his way. He knew they’d have to talk eventually, but he'd hoped for a day or two to gather his wits first.

They’d had some good times together despite the recent death of his wife. But now he had the feeling Polly expected more. Truthfully, he hadn’t given a future much thought. She was a widow and had enough money to make life easier…

“Cinders,” she said curtly as she stopped her horse. Her blonde hair hid under a fashionable blue hat and her blue eyes appeared cold; hard even.

“It wasn’t planned, Polly. It just happened and now we’re done. I’m sorry.” He hoped he sounded contrite enough but from the fury burning in her eyes, he guessed he'd missed the mark.

“We were courting! More than courting and you know it. I’m not the type of women who gives her favors lightly. I’m rather upset.” Her bottom lip pushed into a pout.

“First of all, this is my wedding day and it’s unspeakable that you even came here. Second, Polly, we never talked about a future. I thought it was understood I didn’t want to get married again. And lastly -- and I’m trying to say this as politely as I can, but you need to move on.”

She gasped as her face paled. “John said she was a no good hussy and she came from New York City where she was employed as the upstairs entertainment in a saloon. I came out here to rescue you from that kind of woman.” Her eyes narrowed. “You consummated the marriage already didn’t you? You won’t get away with humiliating me like this, Cinders.”

“Not many people knew we were seeing each other. Hell, I just buried one wife. Think of the scandal it would have caused if people knew.”

“More than you think, Cinders, and I may have mentioned to a few people that we were getting married. Now what am I supposed to do? You’d rather marry a scarred harlot than me?”

He heard a small gasp to his right. He hadn’t noticed Shannon standing there. She touched his arm and stepped forward.

“Ma’am, I’m as sorry as I can be for ruining your plans. I truly am. What Cinders did was very sudden, but he was trying to make sure I was safe. Let me assure you Cinders has no feelings for me and no desire for me. I may be scarred but I’m not a harlot. I’m going to work off the debt I owe and move on.” Her voice was strong and steady. When she was done, she walked away.

“I’ll pay off the debt, Cinders, just tell me how much and we can send her on her way.” Polly insisted.

“And where do you think she’ll end up especially after what John did to her?”

“She’ll be right back where she started. I don’t believe she’s not a harlot. How much do you want?”

He swallowed hard. He’d never known Polly to be so ruthless and he wasn’t impressed that she insisted on ridding him of Shannon. “You know, there are some things in life that can’t be fixed with money. Have a safe trip back.”

She stared him down. “You’ll be sorry.” She snapped the reins, turned the buggy around and off she went.

It was a mess of her own making- he never once mentioned marriage. In fact, he thought it was a mutually satisfying arrangement. So what if his wife had scars? Many people had them, but just not on the outside. He stopped his thoughts. He still couldn't believe he had a wife.