Cinders' Bride: Mail Order Brides of Texas (5 page)

He studied her and she felt the heat of his perusal. No doubt he found her lacking. She’d had plenty of proposals, but none were honest. The familiar ache of the loss of her parents echoed painfully through her heart. She’d give anything for her mother’s counsel, but that wasn’t to be. Maybe it was a good thing she’d gotten married since she could travel as a widow when she left. Men seemed to give them more respect. Her cheek throbbed and she touched the dressing.

“It doesn’t matter you know,” Cinders commented. “No one is perfect and out here we’ve seen just about everything. Men came home from the war scarred and without limbs. The ones with broken spirits were the saddest, but from what I can tell you’re full of fire when needed.”

“That’s a good thing? Out here, I mean, because it was basic survival growing up.”

His eyes filled with understanding. “Yes it’s a very good thing. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

****

Two days later, she realized that her idea of what was fine was not his idea. They weren’t alike in their thinking. There was no figuring out that man. He insisted they sleep in the same bed but promised to never touch her. She’d woken to their arms and legs entwined each morning and while it exhilarated her, it embarrassed her at the same time.

Cinders never said a word, but apparently he wasn’t a morning type of person. Grouchy was more like it.

Today she’d pack up Charlotte’s things. After all Cinders was under the impression she was here to stay. There was no use trying to dissuade him, and she'd mentioned it no more, though she did plan to leave all the same.

Cookie had been right about the men. They didn’t give her a second look. It was something she’d need to get used to. It wasn’t as though she was vain, but she knew it would hurt once people saw her scar.

As soon as Cinders left for the day, she started to gather all signs of Charlotte and put them in a crate. The things in the bedroom went into Charlotte’s trunk. Looking around, the place appeared bare, and she didn’t have any things of her own to put in place of Charlotte’s.

It hurt to go to bed with a man who loved another woman. Too bad she’d started to weave dreams about her life in Texas. Not one thing went as planned, starting with that awful John Hardy. It still didn’t make sense that he’d send for a bride. What woman in her right mind wanted to live in a saloon? He'd had a cunning look about him that kept her wondering.

Cookie took one-step inside and whistled. “There are going to be fireworks today!”

“Why do you say that?”

“What happened to all of Mrs. Cinders’ things?”

She bristled at his not-so-nice tone of voice. “I’m Mrs. Cinders now.”

“Yeah, but still—”

Cinders stood in the doorway wearing a massive scowl. “Where are my wife’s things?”

She hadn’t anticipated the unkind look in his eyes. “I…I have them in the trunk and in a crate. I guess I should have asked. I just thought I'd help…”

Nothing prepared her for the bleak look in his eyes. He turned and strode back out of the door. Loneliness and a sense of failure washed over her.

“I’ll help you put the stuff back,” Cookie offered.

“No, thank you though. It’s already done, and I’ll talk to him about it later. I should have taken his feelings into consideration. I can see the love he has for her in his eyes and I’m just an intruder. He has a right to have her things around. It’s his home.”

“It’s your home too.”

“For now.”

Cookie moved closer and put his hand on her arm. “Don’t get any ideas of leavin’. You’ll see, it’ll all work out.”

Shannon nodded. “I won’t make any sudden decisions, Cookie. Thank you.” She stood on tiptoes, leaned over, and kissed his cheek. He blustered at her kiss but she could see the joy in his eyes.

He left mumbling about something as usual and she wondered about his story, not that it was any of her business. Her shoulders slumped as she remembered Cinders’ scowl. If he sent her away she didn’t want to end up a whore. Why weren’t there more choices for women? A wife or whore? Some were teachers, but most never had a choice. At least she’d pulled herself out of the poverty she lived in most of her life. In many ways, she had more of a choice than others did.

It was time to take her bandage off, and she dreaded it. Standing in front of the only mirror in the dwelling, she took a deep breath and removed the dressing. Her sharp gasp filled the cabin.

The scar was so long! It started near her ear and traveled down her face to her chin. This type of scar would never fade. Drawing closer to the mirror, she examined her stitches which were fine and even. Her scar wouldn’t be a puckered mess at least, and she gave thanks. No matter your lot in life, things could always be worse.

Unwanted tears flowed and stung her healing wound. Perhaps she was entitled to a moment of vanity, but she quickly wiped her tears away and walked away from the mirror. It was easier to pretend she was normal if she didn’t have to look at herself. Keeping busy might help.

The wood floor needed scrubbing. She hauled water into the cabin from the hand pump outside and grabbed a bit of lye soap. Kneeling next to the wooden bucket, she scrubbed. Hard work always gave her a sense of peace. As she focused on the floor, she tried to forget her sorrows. Often stopping to wipe her brow, she admired her work. The floors looked almost new and after hours of scrubbing, finally the entire floor was clean.

The door opened and she automatically called out for whoever it was not to walk on the wet floor. Cinders didn’t heed her words and strolled on in. He stopped near the door, took off his hat, and held on to the brim as he stared at her.

Her heart beat faster while he took it all in. She waited for him to cringe.

“I told you to rest. It’s obvious you’ve been hurt and you shouldn’t be scrubbing floors.”

His voice was gruff and she tried to catch his eye, but he averted his gaze. Her heart sank. Cinders probably had more than Polly chasing after him, and now he was stuck with a wife he couldn’t stand to look at.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” She shooed him off with a wave.

“I’m sorry for how I spoke to you earlier. It was, well, it took me by surprise to see Charlotte’s things gone. Cookie set me straight. I’ll be back later.” He hurried out the door.

Shannon stood up, her body ached but it didn’t come close to the ache in her heart. His apology was meaningless since Cookie had told him to do it. The dirty water needed emptying. She grabbed the handle, carrying it outside. Across the yard all the men were crowded around the corral good-naturedly urging one of the group to break the horse. Shannon's spirit cried out to be part of the amusement, but it wouldn’t be seemly. She poured out the dirty water and returned to the house.

****

The sun blazed in the blue Texas sky as Cinders strolled toward the large cottonwood. The path should have been well worn, but to his shame, it wasn’t. In fact, he rarely took it. Next to the massive tree stood a small grave marker made from wood with Charlotte’s name carved on it. He could tell someone had been tending the site. He should have done it but he hadn’t wanted to think about her too much. Out of respect, he held his hat in his hands and momentarily bowed his head.

Charlotte’s dad owned the neighboring ranch, and when he died, marrying Charlotte seemed the natural thing to do. Running his hand over his face, he groaned. It seemed much longer than three years ago.

There’d been too much war and destruction since then. Charlotte always had a smile on her face and he'd thought her to be of sweet disposition. Things were not what they seemed. What he’d thought would be a perfectly fine relationship turned sour fast.

She often harped about how he got the land in the marriage and she got nothing. His ideals for a happy marriage withered from her spiteful words. What the heck was Cookie talking about tea time and not wanting to be a servant? He needed to find out and probably apologize to him. He had to admit he had left Cookie with Charlotte an awful lot.

Dunning his hat, he turned and gazed at the house. Shannon wasn’t anything like Charlotte, but his pride could only take so much. His lips twitched as he watched her tiptoe to the outhouse with an unpleasant expression on her face. He wasn’t sure what she kind of lifestyle she was used to, but so far, she hadn’t complained.

He mulled it over as he went into the barn. His mother wasn’t a complainer, but the few women he’d known always wanted more; they were never content to be a rancher’s wife. What they'd expected he didn’t know, but they didn’t like hard work. Shannon was different that way. Hell, she’d done more work in the few days she’d been with him than his wife had done in over two years.

Hearing a wagon drive up, he went outside to help Adam unload. Adam had his share of female admirers, but he preferred being alone. Not much of a talker, but you could tell by his eyes that he didn’t miss much.

“How’s it in town?”

Adam jumped down and shrugged. “It’s still standing if that’s what you mean.” He grabbed a sack of grain and headed toward the barn. “There was a lot of talk about you and the missus.”

Cinders grabbed a sack and followed Adam. “What kind of talk?”

“You know, just talk. Polly is madder than a wet hen and Hardy is planning your demise. The usual.”

Cinders slapped him on the back. “Sounds like the usual to me.” The whole town probably knew more than he did about his own wife. He knew where she came from, but not her expectations. It was probably better to know now if she hated the ranch or not.

The door hung open and he had a clear view of her standing at the stove. Her long brown hair hung in a braid and dangled to her waist. She could use a few pounds on her and she still wore her ugly gray dress. She hadn’t come to Texas with much, maybe Hardy had promised to buy her all new things.

Shannon turned and her eyes widened. Her hand flew to her cheek, trying to cover it. Redness spread from her neck and grew until her whole face was bright.

“I didn’t hear you.” She gave him a tentative smile.

“Does Cookie know you’re cooking?”

Her hand dropped and she nodded. “I’m allowed to start the meal and he comes in later to correct all my mistakes.” The humor in her brown eyes puzzled him.

“Strange arrangement.”

“Well, he seems to think that wives don’t cook, and if they do, then they don’t really know how. I know how to cook, but if it makes him feel better adding a few ingredients here and there who am I to stop him?”

“You’re not going to rest are you?”

“I’m perfectly fine. My cheek throbs but my hands and legs still work. Besides, what else would I do all day? Oh, Cookie mentioned a garden. Do you think I could help with it? I want to learn as much as I can.”

He shifted from one leg to another. “You’re planning to stay?” He hadn't intended for his voice to sound gruff.

Swallowing hard, she frowned. “I was hoping. That is, if you don’t want—”

“I want you to stay. Besides, someone has to put up with Cookie.” He tried to give her a reassuring smile but wasn’t quite sure he succeeded.

“Shannon puts up with me quite nicely.” Cookie elbowed his way past Cinders. “Of course she doesn’t know too much about cooking but she’s willing to try.”

Her lips twitched as their gazes caught and held. Something passed between them and the intensity startled him. He felt himself get hard. Damn when did he start wanting her? He promised himself he wouldn’t go down that path.

“Well I’ll leave you two alone.” He gave them a nod and turned away, his hat in front of his britches, hiding his desire. Perhaps he should rethink his relationship with Polly. She might still be willing. Thinking of Polly stopped his problem. He didn’t feel the slightest twinge of wanting her. It was just as well, he couldn’t humiliate Shannon by going to Polly.

He needed a distraction. Maybe when he drove his cattle to Kansas he could find a discreet way to get rid of his urges. There were plenty of whores in the towns they passed.

As far as Shannon went, she appeared to be a good helpmate. He could live with that, couldn’t he?

****

Shannon scooted to the farthest edge of the bed. She’d awakened to find Cinders bumped up against her rear-end and the part of him against her felt hard. She wasn’t naïve, but she never ever knew it could get so hard when pressed against her. Taking a deep breath, she held it and then slowly let it out. She had come to Texas to be a wife and she’d prepared herself to do her duty. It was all a part of being married, of course, but with her face so scarred, she figured who’d want to touch her unless they were drunk and in the dark as Hardy had said.

As the thought of Hardy filled her head, all dreams of children reluctantly vanished. Her heart squeezed but she told herself she had a roof over her head and food to eat and she should be grateful. A tear filled her eye but she refused to let it fall. After all it was time to grow up and forget about wants and desires.

She screamed as she fell onto the hard floor. “What are you doing?” she yelled.

“Just wondering why you are on the floor screaming.”