The Anonymous Bride (6 page)

Rachel scooped flour from the fifty-pound bag in the pantry and dumped it in her big mixing bowl. After sifting out the weevils, she added some salt and sugar and stirred it together. She mixed in the water and one-third cup of lard, stirring until everything balled together. Just as she picked up her rolling pin, a knock sounded on the back door. Rachel jumped and turned, wielding the pin like a club.

Luke opened the door and lifted his dark brows. “You’re not planning to whack me with that, are you? I did knock.”

Hoping to hide her galloping heartbeat, she set a smile on her face and lowered her arm, hiding the rolling pin behind her. “Good evening.”

Luke nodded and glanced at his plate of food.

Rachel peeked past him out the door in the waning light, wondering if he’d brought the dog with him. She hoped he could train that pest to stay away from her trash heap. “Where’s your deputy?”

He glanced at the door. “Don’t have one yet.”

Her lips twitched, and she couldn’t resist teasing him. “That’s not what I heard. Or maybe I should say, ‘Where’s your prisoner?’”

Luke’s brows lifted, and he casually leaned against the door frame, looking manlier than any fellow had a right to. “Rachel, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

All humor flew out the door. Had her daughter been lying to her about the dog? What if she’d trapped a wild creature and was feeding it? Rachel clutched her hands to her chest, knowing that some critters carried the rabies. “Jacqueline said you had a dog locked up in your jail.”

“Oh, that.” For the first time since returning, Luke dropped his guard, and amusement danced in his brown eyes. “I tied that ol’ dog up outside, but he kept trying to get away and was gaggin’ himself, so I locked him in a cell. Jack thought it was funny.”

Rachel straightened, turned her back to Luke, and started rolling out her dough. “Please don’t encourage her with that name. She’s Jacqueline.”

“I figured if I called her Jack like she wants, maybe she’d warm up to me a bit. I’d like to help her change her ways before she gets hurt or into serious trouble.”

Rachel cracked the spoon against the side of her bowl and spun around so fast Luke’s eyes went as wide as biscuits. She wielded the spoon like a weapon. “Just what’s wrong with my daughter’s behavior?”

***

Luke bristled at Rachel’s unexpected, stormy reaction. Surely she knew her daughter was gallivanting all over town with older boys. Rachel had been a near perfect daughter—sweet, kind, helpful, rarely disobeying her mother’s wishes. How could she have ended up with such a wild child?

“I asked what is wrong with Jacqueline’s behavior.”

Luke straightened. “She’s running with older boys, and I think they’re causing her to do things she probably wouldn’t do on her own.”

Rachel’s face paled, and she latched onto the back of a kitchen chair. “What kind of things?”

“The day I arrived, she and those boys threw rocks at my horse.” He omitted the part about Alamo knocking him into the river. A man had his pride, after all.

Lifting her chin, Rachel glared and pointed her spoon at him. “I know Jacqueline’s been with those boys, and I’m trying to stop it, but I don’t for a second believe that she would throw rocks at your horse. She doesn’t have a cruel bone inside her.”

He thought about how he’d found Jack in the street with that stick in her hand. The jury was still out as to her true intentions. His gut said to believe Rachel, but there was a wildness in the child that could only be driven out by a loving parent who wasn’t afraid to discipline. Rachel always had a soft heart, always saw the best in others. She was a peacemaker, a nurturer, and he could see where disciplining might be hard for her. “You’re gonna have to be tougher than her, Rach.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Just what do you know about raising children?”

He shrugged, hoping to look nonchalant. If she’d married him instead of James, he’d know plenty about raising kids by now. “Not much. I’ve been a soldier for the past decade, but I’ve learned that people rise to what’s expected of them. They need rules. Boundaries. Especially children.”

“Well, I have rules for Jacqueline. It’s just difficult to enforce them at times.”

“Try harder. You don’t want to lose Jack because you’re afraid she won’t like you if you spank her.”

Rachel puckered up like a raisin and crossed her arms over her chest. “I am not having this conversation with you. You don’t know a thing about raising a girl. There’s more involved than tanning her backside whenever she does the wrong thing.”

“‘Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him.’”

Her brows lifted. “So you’re quoting the Bible to me now?” Suddenly her expression changed from anger to despair. “I try to make Jacqueline mind, but she bucks me at every turn. I want her to be disciplined and to act like a normal girl, but I don’t know how to make that happen.” She swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you, Luke.” She turned and fled the room.

He stood there looking at the empty doorway. Why had she gotten upset at him? He was just trying to help Jack. To encourage Rachel to be stricter.

He’d seen plenty of kids at the forts he’d been stationed at, and the ones who followed rules rarely got hurt or in trouble. The broken, bloodied body of a nine-year-old boy flashed before him. He’d told Thomas to stay away from the mustangs fresh off the plains, but the kid was stubborn. Determined to prove he was just as good a horse breaker as his dad. A brief encounter with a wild stallion had snuffed out the boy’s life.

Luke snatched his plate off the back of the stove and stormed out the door, though his appetite had faded. Rachel had changed. When had she become so stubborn? Why couldn’t she see that he was just trying to help her and Jack?

CHAPTER 6

Garrett sipped his coffee and studied the Dallas newspaper that a friend had sent him. He chuckled at the comical wording of some of the mail-order bride ads. He forked more of the scrambled eggs his brother had cooked into his mouth and peered over the top of the paper at Mark. “What do you think about this one?”

“‘Christian woman, 24, 5'7", thin, dark hair, seeking a father for her five children.’”

“Five?”

Garrett nodded.

“Does that advertisement mean she’s thin, or does she have thin, dark hair?”

Garrett chuckled and continued reading.
“‘Has adequate house on 60 acres and $3000 in bank. Needs man willing to relocate and run dairy farm.’”

“Sounds like she’s wanting a hired hand more than a husband.” Mark pursed his lips. “I bet she’ll get lots of takers, but seems a bit risky to advertise that she has all that money.” He shook his head. “I hope nobody takes advantage of her and runs off with it.”

“Yeah. Many men would.”

Mark picked up a thick slice of bacon. “Even if we found Luke a gal to marry like that one, I doubt he would want to leave Lookout when he just returned to town after being gone so long.”

Garrett leaned back in his chair and glanced out the window. The overnight thunderstorm had left droplets on the panes and puddles in the street. “Yeah, I get the idea he wants to stick around here, but I don’t know if he will.”

“Because of Rachel?”

“Yeah. I tried to talk to him about her again, but he’s touchy.”

“Well, give him time. He hasn’t been back all that long and has had eleven years to stew over the fact that his gal married someone else.”

Garrett smeared strawberry jam on a slice of bread then licked the knife. “That’s why we need to find him another woman. I mentioned that Rachel was now available, and you should’a seen how his hackles raised. Whoo-wee!”

“I still think you’re messin’ with fire.”

“What could it hurt to write to a couple of these ladies? You might even decide to keep one for yourself.”

“Me?” Mark’s eyes went so wide that Garrett laughed. “What about you? You’re the oldest.”

Garrett shrugged. “Might be the only way to find a bride. This town’s poorly lacking in females.”

“Ain’t that the truth? Let me have a look.”

Smiling to himself, Garrett passed the newspaper to his brother and dug into the rest of his breakfast. He glanced around the kitchen of the house they had inherited from their parents. His mother would pitch a fit if she could see the unwashed dishes in the sink and the pile of dirty clothes on the floor of their bedrooms. “We sure could use a woman around this place. Maybe we ought to try to find someone to help out here a few hours a week.”

“Yeah, it’s filthy in here.” Mark studied the room. “What kind of gal do you favor?”

Garrett shrugged. “Don’t matter as long as she’s pretty and not sassy.”

“I kind of favor redheads.” Mark’s gaze remained on the paper as he took another bite of his toast. “You know, the color of a sorrel horse.”

“You’re comparing a woman’s hair to a horse?” Garrett shook his head. “How romantic.”

The paper dropped down, revealing Mark’s clean-shaven face and sky blue eyes. He glared at Garrett then flung his toast through the air like a weapon. It hit Garrett on the nose. He jerked back his head, and after a moment of heavy silence, they both laughed.

“Okay, seriously, how about this one?” Mark tilted the paper as if to see it better.
“‘Twenty-five-year-old woman seeks man to marry. Must be a godly man of high character and gentle heart. I have light brown hair, blue eyes, and no visible blemishes—’”

Garrett looked up from his plate. “Wonder what that means? You think she’s got a big mole on her back like a shooting target or something?”

Mark curled his lips. “I didn’t interrupt you.”

“Yes, you did.”

Mark shook his head but continued reading.
“‘I prefer a man who lives west of the Mississippi River.’”

Garrett leaned back with one arm dangling over the back of his chair as he sipped his coffee. “Light brown hair, blue eyes, huh? Might be a good idea to order up a bride that has different coloring than Rachel.”

“Aren’t her eyes light green?”

Garrett shook his head. “Blue, like I imagine ice would be if it had a color.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s right. Hmm ... how about a brunette? Here’s one.
‘Black-haired/black-eyed woman, age 18, seeks husband. Can cook and sew. Prefers to marry rancher. No soldiers.’”

“Well, that puts Luke out of the picture.” Garrett stood and took his plate to the sink and added it to the towering mess. It wobbled but didn’t fall. “A brunette is a good idea, though. Or maybe we could order him a choice: blond, brunette, and a redhead.”

“You’re loco, you know it? What would you do with the other brides? What if Luke didn’t want any of them? Then you’d be stuck caring for a henhouse full of females. This is a bad idea, I’m telling you.” Mark tossed the paper toward the middle of the table. He shoved back his chair, stood, and carried his plate to the counter. “One of us needs to do these dishes ’fore we get ants in here.”

“I’ll flip you for it. The winner needs to take the horses over to Dan’s and get them reshod before he gets too busy.”

Mark nodded, and Garrett tossed the coin in the air. It spun around, reflecting the morning sunlight coming in the kitchen window, then plunked onto the floor. It wobbled around before settling on
heads.
Garrett grinned. As oldest, he was always
heads.
“Better luck next time, brother.”

Mark scowled but picked up the bucket. “Getting one of those brides for us sounds better all the time. I wouldn’t mind having a woman around to cook and do the cleanin’ and washin’.”

“That would mean one of us would have to get married.” Garrett bumped his brother’s shoulder with his own. “You think you’re ready?”

Mark looked up at the ceiling as if deep in thought. “Could be.”

Garrett lifted his brows at his brother’s confession. “I guess we aren’t getting any younger, huh?”

“Not today.”

The door creaked as Mark opened it, reminding Garrett he needed to grease the hinges. Things would change a lot if one of them was to marry. Would they lose the closeness they enjoyed as brothers? Still, being married did have its benefits. He glanced at the paper, formulating an advertisement for Luke in his mind as he walked toward the barn. He lifted his head, enjoying the crisp scent to the air after the overnight storms. In the barn, he fed the horses and grabbed the water bucket, stopping to lean on the fence rail. “Hmmm ... let’s see.”

Town marshal wants wife who can cook, sew, and clean.

“Nah, better to not be so picky.”

Town marshal wants wife who can cook.

He considered Luke’s height. He was a good six feet himself, so that must have made Luke six feet two. He thought about his cousin’s hair and eye color. Those things were important to women.

Town marshal, 6'2", dark brown hair and eyes, wants wife who can cook.

What else would a woman want to know? That he’d been a soldier? Thinking about that one ad, he mentally marked that off his list.