blubbered into her palms.
"Well, then put on that yellow dress."
"I-it's w-w-wrinkled."
"Well—what about this other one?"
She peeked through her fingers. Her gray skirt hung from
his hand. "That's a traveling suit," she howled.
"A traveling suit?"
"He'd never approve," she all but wailed.
The bed bounced as Howard sat down beside her. "Is that
what's wrong? You're afraid your father won't approve of how
you look?"
She squeezed her eyes shut.
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"Half an hour ago you were wearing my britches and shirt.
You didn't care then what your father thought."
A frown pulled on her brows. Yes, she had cared, she just
hadn't cried over it. Besides half an hour ago, she didn't know
how upset he was over their wedding. A new sob rolled out of
her chest, making her snort and sniffle. The overwhelming
emotions encompassing her from head to toe ate the last
amount of control she had. Twisting about, she flopped face
first onto the bed and smothered her cries into a pillow.
"Aw, hell!" he exclaimed. The bed bounced again and a few
seconds later he shouted, "Ma? Ma, come here and bring your
sewing kit."
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By the time she exited the tent both her father and Belinda
were gone. Randi didn't know if the fact made her happy or
sad. While still pondering the thought and gazing at the
empty table near the other tents, Snake arrived at her side.
He informed her Belinda and her father had gone to town to
reserve a hotel room. The news was like a double-edged
sword, for it surely meant they planned on staying in Dodge
for a least a day or two.
At the same time, the information Ma Quinter had shared
in the tent gave her the smallest amount of hope. The woman
had talked non-stop while she sewed. Most exciting had been
the fact that her two older son's had been forced into
marriage. And it appeared all had turned out perfectly. The
woman was convinced things would be the same for her and
Howard.
Stephanie Quinter, or Ma, as she insisted on being called,
sounded rough and gruff, but underneath was kind and had
quickly enticed Randi to dry her tears. Having been alone for
so long, the friendship Stephanie offered filled a strong
craving inside Randi's soul.
"Well, come on now, no dilly-dallyin'. It's been a coon-
dog's age since we had breakfast. We gotta get some lunch
going for these boys. They're bound to be about starved by
now, and there's nothin' worse than a hungry man, he gets
grumpier than a snake in a bag." Ma hooked their elbows and
tugged her toward the other tents.
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"What are we making for lunch?" The thought of cooking
increased her outlook. She'd missed preparing meals and
creating new dishes. It had been her job for as long as she
could remember, but after Mother died and she'd moved to
Topeka with her father, his cook banned her from the kitchen.
Belinda had said it was unsightly for someone in her position
to be seen in an apron.
"Kid, I told you about him and Jessie," Ma started.
She nodded, remembering Kid as the oldest Quinter son.
He and his wife, Jessie, lived near Nixon, and had two
children, a boy and a girl, who Ma proclaimed to be the most
wonderful younguns on earth, besides the two the next
brother, Skeeter, and his wife, Lila, had.
"Well, he's got lots of cattle, so I have enough beef to feed
half the state. Thought we'd just fry up some potatoes to go
with it."
"Or I could make Beef Wellington." Randi's heart skipped a
beat. She hadn't made the dish in so long. It had always been
one of Mother's favorites, but they rarely had beef, chickens
had been their mainstay. That and whatever game she'd
managed to acquire. She pinched her lips together knowing
the thought had been unfair. Even after her father had
started to visit, their pantry hadn't increased. Belinda said
they shouldn't expect it either. She'd said politicians were like
preachers; they work for the people and didn't receive an
exuberant amount of money to feed their families.
"Uh? Beef what?" Ma stared at her with wide eyes.
Randi let her wandering thoughts float away and returned
to the conversation. "We don't have an oven, do we?"
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"Nope, not yet. But knowing Hog the first room finished
will be the kitchen." Ma Quinter pointed toward the building
where men sawed and hammered.
Randi's feet stalled, and she gasped, shocked by the
transformation taking place before her eyes. "Oh, my. The
sides are almost all up. They certainly work quickly."
"Yup, when my boys set out to do something, they don't
waste their time." Ma tugged on her arm.
Randi fell in step beside the other woman, twisting every
once in awhile to catch sight of the massive building and the
men scrambling about. She tried hard to get a glimpse of
Howard, but Ma Quinter stormed forward like she was on her
way to a fire. Her quick glances did catch sight of Snake and
Bug, but not her husband. She held in the want to sigh loudly
and turned to Stephanie.
"Your sons certainly have interesting names."
Ma laughed. "Yup, their daddy did that. Gave them all nick
names and they stuck. The boys aren't always too fond of
them. Kid is really Kendell. Skeeter is Steven, Snake is Scott,
Hog is Howard, and Bug is Brett."
"Oh," Randi let the names sink in. Mother had always
called her Kitten. She'd said from the time Randi had been
born, she snuggled in like a kitten in her lap.
"So, what's the beef William stuff?"
It took Randi a moment to comprehend what the woman
meant. "Beef Wellington. It's beef baked inside a thin pastry.
It's quite delicious."
A very thoughtful look covered Ma Quinter's face. "Hmm, I
think things are gonna turn out better than I imagined."
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Perplexed, Randi asked, "Excuse me?"
The bonnet on the other woman's head fluttered about as
she shook her head, and her shoulders hiked up and down a
few times before she said, "Nothing. So what else do you
know how to cook?"
"Oh, lots of things. My great-grandfather had a hotel and
restaurant in New York years ago, and when my mother was
a little girl she stayed with them. When she was ill she would
talk about all the fancy dishes they used to serve, so I
ordered some cookbooks and learned how to cook many of
them for her." The cookbooks were safely tucked inside her
carpet bags, the few things Belinda hadn't made her
destroy—only because she didn't know about them.
"You don't say?"
"Yes, I love to cook." They stopped outside Ma's tent
where a complete camp site had been set up. Tables, chairs,
washing station, a fire pit with a wide tri-pod balanced over it,
and several other necessities sat about.
"Does Hog know all this?" Ma rubbed her chin.
"No." Worry tugged on Randi's face, and she cringed, not
wanting to upset him anymore than he already was. "Will he
be mad?"
"Mad?" Ma guffawed. "What man would be mad to know
his wife can cook?"
Randi let out a long sigh, almost afraid to admit another
one of her many faults. "I'm afraid I don't know much about
men."
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"Well, honey. The way to a man's heart is through his
stomach and for Hog that's double fold." The woman moved
toward a wagon with a billowing canvas top.
She followed. "So Hog-oward likes to eat?" It was a stupid
question. Howard was the largest man she'd ever seen. He
wasn't overweight, she hadn't seen a wrinkle of excess
anywhere on his broad chest and flat stomach, but a man his
size must need a large amount of food to maintain the
breadth of a body so immense.
"You could say that," Ma said. A large smile curled the
ends of her thin lips. "You certainly could say that." She
climbed into the back of the wagon. "So what do you want to
cook?"
A rush of happiness she couldn't control made Randi
scamper in behind the other woman. "Well, let's see what you
have."
Howard lifted his head to wipe away the sweat dripping in
his eyes. The workmen he'd hired were outdoing themselves.
More had been accomplished this morning than he'd expected
in a full day of work. While he'd been getting hitched, the
hired hands had assembled the walls. He'd arrived in time to
help raise the fourth one.
Through an opening in the wood, he caught sight of his
mother and Randi strolling arm in arm toward the other tents.
His hand fell to rest on a support beam. Her long hair had
been rearranged, neatly pinned to the back of her head, and
the sides puffed out like a sun bonnet.
His eyes continued their appraisal. Her straight shoulders
and back gave her the ambiance of style and affluence. The
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soft even sway of her trim hips made her blue skirt swirl
about her feet as she walked. Perhaps Thurston Fulton had
been right. She would make the perfect hostess for his
establishment.
"See something you like there, brother?"
He sucked up, swallowed his outlandish thoughts, and
gave Bug an icy stare.
His youngest brother pushed him aside to gaze between
the boards. "Hmm, not bad if you ask me."
An irritating pinch stung his stomach. "No one's asking
you, and you better keep those eyes in your head if you know
what's good for you."
Bug let out a deep laugh that bounced off the walls. "Oh, I
know what's good for me, just wondering if you know what's
good for you."
He tapped Bug's chest with one finger. "You getting back
to work is what's good for you."
"Funny you know?"
"What? What's funny?"
"I just always figured Ma's shotgun would get Snake
hitched before you. Good thing I ain't a bettin' man." Bug
reached down, took the extra hammer lying by his feet, and
chuckling, strolled away.
Howard's gaze went back to the women. They were both in
the back of the storage wagon. What was he going to do with
her? Whether she'd make a good hostess or not, he really
didn't have time for a wife. And most definitely didn't have
time to deal with her father. Having an alliance, no matter
how strained, with the Populist Party would damage his
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business before it even opened. He had to get rid of Fulton
immediately, the railroad and cattlemen he expected to cater
to would be appalled by the politician.
A thought exploded in his head. Snapping his fingers, he
turned about.
Skeeter!
Minutes later, he found Snake on the
far side of the building. "I gotta go to town."
"What for?" Snake asked, gesturing toward a buckboard
piled high with building equipment. "Maybe I have it in the
supply wagon."
"I need to send a wire to Skeeter."
"Skeeter? What for?"
Howard raised his eyebrows. "I'm gonna ask him if he'd
like a visit from the next governor of Kansas."
Snake started laughing and gave his head a short quick
shake. "You really dislike your new father-in-law don't you?"
"Yes, I do," Howard admitted without thought to how it
sounded.
"You better make it a long wire. Skeeter'll need to know
details."
He laid his hand on Snake's shoulder. "I'm thinking more
about Buffalo Killer. The brave might like to meet a
politician."
Snake let out a low whistle. "Your new wife might not like
it if her father comes back scalped."
"Naw, Skeeter won't let it go that far," he said, but a slight
twinge did tickle his spine.
"You must know a different Skeeter than I do if you
believe that."
Howard smirked. "Well, Lila won't let it go that far."
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Snake nodded. "That I can agree with."
"I'll be back in an hour or so." A smile tugged at his lips.
Buffalo Killer was one of Skeeter and Lila's best friends, and a
hell of a guy. But if there was one thing the Sioux hated, it
was politicians. Getting Thurston Fulton out of town for a
while would give him time to figure out what to do with
Randilynn.
He certainly couldn't let her move back to Topeka with the
man. Maybe he should send a wire to Kid as well, find out
more about that girl's university in Boston he tried to send
Jessie to right after they got married.
Guilt made Howard's stomach roll. Not over the wire,
Thurston Fulton deserved any loathing Buffalo Killer would