Wildflower (12 page)

Chuck and Dave clambered into the wagon and took off down the street. Logan watched for a moment then stepped into the mercantile.

Mrs. Upton stood beside her husband as he walked to the counter. “Where’s your wife?” she asked. “I thought she wanted to borrow the latest Mark Twain book.”

“She, uh, left. But I’d still like to order that wedding band for her, if I could.”

Mrs. Upton glanced at her husband then backed away. Mr. Upton eyed Logan, his mouth set in a grim line rather than the usual easy smile. “How you planning on paying for it?”

Dread crept along Logan’s neck. “I planned to put it on the Standing T tab. Is there a problem?”

Upton scratched his chin. “I’m afraid so.” He angled away from the other patrons, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Seems Gene put quite a bit on credit here.”

“How much?”

“Forty-three dollars.”

Logan swore under his breath. He crossed his arms. “And you’re just now discovering this? You’re the owner. How is that possible?”

“Because Gene dealt mostly with my wife.” The merchant cast a loving look to Mrs. Upton pouring more coffee for the men by the stove. “Wonderful woman, but a bit too generous when it comes to people. The ring she says you want will cost an additional twenty dollars.”

Another colorful curse rang through Logan’s head. He rubbed at the headache behind his eyes. Sixty-three dollars. Could this day get much worse?

All he had was forty-eight dollars. Money saved up for when he struck out for the Dakotas to stake his own claim. But he wasn’t going to the Dakotas anymore. His stake was right here, with the Standing T.

He could pay off the debt, but not buy Matt’s ring. Hell, maybe he shouldn’t even get her a ring, considering how surly she’d been about a few folks knowing they were married. That thought twisted like a knife.

No. A man’s wife deserved a ring on her finger, even a churlish wife. He looked back at Upton. “I’ll clear the unpaid bill then start a new line of credit in my name for the ring.”

Upton hesitated. “You sure you’ll be able to pay? Times have been tough ‘round here.”

“Give you my word.” He stuck his hand out. “Do we have a deal?”

Upton shook his hand. “We do. Now I need to measure your wife’s finger for the ring.”

“As I told your wife, she’s not here and I don’t know when we’ll make it back to town.”

Upton’s lips pursed in thought. “Guess we could use my daughter’s finger. Daisy’s just a year younger. Their hands should be the same size.” He got a tablet of paper off a shelf. “I’ll place the order today and it’ll go out on tomorrow’s stage. The wedding band should arrive within a month. Maybe less.”

“Good. I’ll be back directly to settle the Standing T account.”

Chapter Seven

Matt rode at a break-neck pace across the prairie. The wind whipped past her face, causing tears to gather then fall.

But she wasn’t crying. She never cried.

She had no idea where she was going. Just away. Away from all things hurtful. From the pain and disappointment of not belonging. Away from Logan.

While he hadn’t hurt her feelings—this time—it was just a matter of time.

Slowing Turk to a trot, it surprised her that she’d ridden all the way to the Applegate place. Sam was unhitching the wagon in front of the barn as she brought her horse down to a walk and entered the yard.

The Applegate spread was much smaller than the Standing T with only the barn and main house. There wasn’t a separate building for cooking meals or a bunkhouse. She halted in front of Sam.

He squinted up at her. “Didn’t we just have a conversation in town?”

She grinned rather sheepishly. “We did indeed.”

He tipped his hat back. “So what brings you out this way?”

She focused on dismounting while searching for an answer. Her shoulder rolled up, saying the first thing that popped into her head. “Thought it’d be neighborly if I stopped by to see Elisabeth.”

“Mighty nice of you. I’m sure she’ll be grateful for the woman company.” He nudged his head to the main house. “She’s inside. With George. I swear that brother of mine is nuthin’ but a mother hen these days.”

Sam returned to the harnesses and Matt walked the short distance to the house. The door opened to reveal George Applegate.

If Sam was a barrel of a man, his taller, broader brother was the side of a barn. George occupied the entire doorframe, seeming to have to squeeze his shoulders together to step through it. “Matt, what you doing here?”

She shoved her hands into her pockets. “I met up with your brother in town and he mentioned that Elizabeth doesn’t get out much. Thought I’d pay her a visit.”

“That’s real nice of you. Elisabeth, you’ve got company,” he said over his shoulder.

“I’ve got what?” a woman’s voice asked from inside the house.

He glanced back at Matt. “Go on in. She’s been baking something fierce today. If you can get her to sit for a spell, I’d be obliged.” He touched her arm as she slipped past. “We were real sad to hear about your pappy.”

“Thank you.”

“George Applegate,” Elisabeth scowled. “Who in the Sam Hill are you—Matilda!”

The brown-haired, hazel-eyed woman engulfed Matt in as tight a hug as her bulging belly would allow like they were long-lost friends. Though she liked the woman well enough, Matt never thought of Elisabeth as a friend. She didn’t see any real need for female friends. They weren’t any good at ranching. In fact, they weren’t much good for anything except sewing and giggling. Upton’s ninny daughter came to mind. After giving Elisabeth several awkward pats, she eased away.

“What in the world are you doing here?” Elisabeth demanded, her hands on ample hips. “Not that I’m not very glad to see you.” Her features sobered. “I’m so sorry about your father, Matilda. I feel dreadful that I couldn’t attend his funeral.”

Matt fought not to gape at the woman’s hugely distended stomach. She’d seen cows ready to calve that weren’t as large. “Please don’t feel bad. I know your circumstances don’t allow for you to socialize.”

Elisabeth caressed her stomach. “Yes. Thank you for understanding.” Her hand fluttered toward the table. “Where are my manners? Please sit. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Don’t bother yourself on my account.”

“It’s no bother.” She waddled to the shelf and grabbed the tea canister.

While Elisabeth moved about filling the kettle and measuring tea leaves Matt perched her butt on a chair and looked around the single room.

Bright, matching yellow curtains adorned the three windows and a brown rug covered most of the wood floor. Dough was laid out on the worktable and the aroma of fresh bread infused her nose. Everything about the room was warm and welcoming. The smell. The colors. The woman pouring steaming water into two mugs. Elisabeth handed one to her. She smiled in thanks.

Elisabeth sat with a heavy sigh. “What brings you here today, Matilda?” She spooned sugar into her mug and stirred.

Matt blew on the liquid in her cup. “I’ve never paid you a visit. Figure it was about time.”

Elisabeth gave her a gracious smile. “Past time in my opinion.”

Matt concentrated on sipping her tea. Why the hell
was
she here? Not to visit, that was for sure. But why? She looked again at the furnishing in the simple room. Nothing fancy, but knickknacks sat on the fireplace mantle and window sills. Two rocking chairs sat in front of the hearth, a sewing basket on the floor in between piled with garments in need of mending.

This was a home, not just a place for a person to lay her head. Not like where she’d grown up. The Standing T might be a bigger spread, but it definitely wasn’t better.

A knot of sadness grew in her stomach. This is what she wanted. To have a home, not just a house. Would she find it when she went to Kansas City? Would she ever find it at all?

The door burst open, making them both jump. Sam walked in with a sack of dry goods over each shoulder. He plopped the sacks by the worktable in the corner then turned to leave.

“Have you told Elisabeth your news?” he asked Matt.

Elisabeth spooned a bit more sugar into her tea. “What news is that?”

“She and Logan Cartwright got hitched,” Sam said as he left, closing the door behind him.

The spoon clattered against the saucer. “You
what
?”

Scorching heat flamed Matt’s face. She looked away from Elisabeth’s accusing stare. “Logan and
me
got married.”

“When did this happen?”

“Just a few days ago. It was pretty sudden.”

“I should say so,” Elisabeth chastised. “I didn’t even know he was courting you.”

Matt opened her mouth to say that she hadn’t been courted. That Logan only married her to get the ranch, but the words gummed up her throat like Chuck’s overcooked oatmeal.

The disgrace of her father having to
bribe
Logan into marrying her was an icy hand squeezing her heart. She hadn’t been pretty enough for Logan to marry her. Were things going to be any different in Kansas City or any other city? She still wore denims. She still wasn’t pretty.

“Matilda, are you listening to me?”

Elisabeth’s voice snapped her attention back. “I’m sorry?”

“I asked if your husband’s taking you on a wedding tour.”

“Uh, wedding tour?”

“Yes. It’s when newly wedded couples go on a trip. Spend time together before settling into married life.”

“We, uh, need to drive the cattle to Abilene first.”
So I can have the money to leave Indian Territory.
Matt’s chest hurt at the thought.

Elisabeth absently stirred her tea. “George promised to take me to Fort Smith after the baby comes and before next winter. Not exactly a wedding tour, but it’ll still be nice.” She sighed. “I always wanted to go on a long tour, but being a mail ordered bride, that wasn’t possible. But to stay in a fancy hotel with a restaurant and wear your best dresses…” Her voice drifted off as she took a sip of tea.

Matt remembered the green material in Upton’s. It had looked so shimmering, like it would be air around her body. In a dress made from that fabric, she’d be pretty. Guaranteed. Pretty for Logan.

Not that she wanted to be pretty for him, she told herself. She was leaving after all. But if she was pretty in Logan’s eyes, then maybe she’d find someone in Kansas City who thought she was pretty too. Or maybe, just maybe, she’d be pretty enough that Logan would want her to stay…

She scoffed a laugh. Who was she foolin’? She was barking at a knot to think she would ever own such a dress, let alone wear it.

“What’s so funny, Matilda?”

She shrugged, not meeting her friend’s gaze. “I don’t figure to ever have a wedding tour.”

“You never know. Your husband might surprise you. Where would you like to go?”

“Kansas City,” she replied without hesitation. To travel with Logan, to be his wife—in every sense…

Matt gave
herself
a mental slap. “This is silly talk. I won’t have any such thing.”