Marriage by Mail (Grace Church Book 1) (12 page)

Her peaceful resolution lasted until she passed by the kitchen, where Charles was scrubbing a pot so vigorously, he was splashing water all over the floor. The dust from his boots mingled with the water, creating mud all over the floor which she had just washed earlier in the day. She bit her lip, fuming.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Charles said, evenly, not turning to her. “Instead of gallivanting all over.”

That did it. “Well, now I know,” she blurted. “I’m married to a rude man. Rude!” She spun around and went to her room, firmly shutting the door behind her. She paced for a while, fuming. Finally, she stopped at her window. She could see stars: layers and layers of stars. The Milky Way. Orion. She took a deep breath and let it out.
Lord
, she thought.
Lord
.

She turned, hearing a sound.

An envelope was sliding under her door. She watched, waiting. She heard Charles’ footsteps retreating. Quickly, she walked over to the envelope and picked it up.

Mrs. Smith

Her Room

Dear Rose,

I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

Love,

The Rudest Husband West of the Mississippi

She bit her lip, smiling a little. After reading the note again, she set it on her bed and opened her door, stepping into the parlor. She could see Charles sitting outside on the porch. He was sitting on the stairs and his usually busy hands were idle. Slumped over, he looked down at his feet, which were in socks. His boots were on the ground. Rose glanced into the kitchen and saw the floor was clean. She felt the last vestige of irritation leave her and she hurried out onto the porch. He stood up quickly.

“Rose,” he said, his features full of relief. He reached out tentatively to grasp her hands gently.

“Sorry for calling you rude,” she said, smiling up at him.

“You were just speaking the truth, no cause to be sorry for that,” he said ruefully, walking her to the rocking chair. He held her arm as she sat down.

“I’m not sick anymore, Charles,” she said in frustration. “You don’t have to be so… so…
careful
of me.”

He turned away and sat down on the steps. They were quiet for some time, as the night grew brighter with the moonrise.

“Sure is bright,” he said, eventually.

“I could read out here with this light,” she said.

“Your eyes,” he said. “They’ve been feeling better?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “I keep forgetting my spectacles, that’s how I realized they were getting better and better.”

“That’s good. Real good,” he said softly. He sighed, leaning back on his hands, looking up at the sky. “Will you say something? From the Bible, or a poem?”

“Or how about a recipe?” Rose laughed.

He glanced at her in surprise, then slowly smiled. “The potatoes were real good, Rose.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, twisting her apron. “I admit I was thinking of apple pies. Mashed Potatoes? That’s such an easy dish. It doesn’t even require a recipe, or receipt, as my mother called it. All right, let’s see. How about a Psalm?”

Charles turned to face her, leaning his back against the bannister.

“
He
healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds
,” she recited.

“
He telleth the number of the stars; He calleth them all by their names.

Great is our Lord, and of great power; His understanding is infinite.

Sing unto the Lord with thanksgiving; sing praise upon the harp unto our God,

who covereth the heavens with clouds, who prepareth rain for the earth, who maketh grass to grow upon the mountains.

He giveth to the beast his food and to the young ravens which cry
.”

Rose let the last word linger as she gazed up at the night sky. “That’s not all of it, but that’s the part I remember.”

“Imagine that,” said Charles quietly. “God knowing how many stars there are, and each star’s name?”

“I lose count so quickly,” she laughed, squinting up at the stars.

He smiled and slid over so he sat next to the rocking chair.

“Careful you don’t get splinters,” she said. “I’d hate to have to count how many you could get!”

He laughed once, shaking his head. “Rose. Whatever did I do without you?”

She paused, struck by the seriousness in his voice. “Why, I guess you worked hard, and made a nice house. Seems as though you sanded this porch very well, in truth. I imagine I could walk on it barefoot and not get a single splinter.”

“That’s right,” he smiled, running a hand over the boards. “I made sure to make this porch smooth for you, even though I hadn’t met you yet.”

Rose turned her face away, smiling, hoping that her blush was not evident under the bright moonlight.

Chapter Eighteen

Charles held the cinch up, squinting. Nodding, he held it out to Mr. Barney.

“This will do.”

After Mr. Barney had wrapped it in some paper and tied it with twine, Charles took it and went back to the forge. Once inside, he placed the cinch with the saddle he had been repairing and cleaning. The leather gleamed in the light from the coals and the sunshine filtering through the window. He nodded in satisfaction. He had his old saddle ready for Rose, and a brand new cinch to keep it securely on Sweetheart. He had traded repairs on an old lantern for a bridle that would suit just fine. After cleaning it and oiling it, the bridle looked brand new.

That morning, Rose had mentioned wanting to see the river that Charles had described. He wanted to bring her to it on Saturday. It was within walking distance, but Charles hurriedly suggested that they ride there. He wanted to keep Rose off her feet. They could ride there and back, the horses walking at a slow pace the entire way. Rose lit up at the idea of riding her new horse, and Charles knew he had to get her saddle ready and a bridle to boot.

When his work was done for the day, he rode home on Rascal, holding the saddle on one arm.

Rose waved from the porch. “Is that the saddle you used to keep in the parlor?”

He held it out to her proudly from the bottom step. “Sure is. Got a cinch for it and I got a bridle, too. We’re all set for a ride to the river this Saturday.”

Rose frowned, looking perplexed. “It looks a bit small for you,” she said tentatively.

“It was mine when I was a youngster,” he said, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “It’s for you.”

“For me?” She slowly reached out and touched the saddle.

“Yep.” He smiled proudly.

“Why, thank you, Charles, I’m most obliged, I’m sure, but this is a man’s saddle,” she said, looking troubled. “I am sorry you went to such trouble!”

“It will fit you just fine,” he reassured her. “And it will be a perfect fit for Sweetheart, too. The stirrups are adjustable, see?”

“Yes, but, Charles, it is a man’s saddle. It’s a saddle for riding astride,” she explained patiently. “I am sorry. It’s a lovely saddle.”

“Oh,” said Charles, nodding in understanding. “Yes, you’re right. It’s a saddle for riding astride, not for riding side-saddle.”

“I couldn’t ride astride,” she said, looking shocked.

He tried not to laugh. “Well, sure you could. This is the west, after all.”

“No, Charles,” she said, shaking her head resolutely. “I simply could not. A lady does not ride astride a horse.”

He started to feel frustrated and impatient. “A lady does indeed ride astride. It’s safer. No wife of mine is going to ride side-saddle.”

“No wife of yours?” She looked at him incredulously. She frowned.

“Side-saddles are dangerous,” he said, trying to explain what he meant patiently. “The way the saddle is designed is pure foolishness. If the rider falls off, she falls off all wrong. If the horse falls, the rider gets trapped underneath.”

“I can’t ride a horse like a man!” Rose said, raising her voice.

“You wouldn’t be,” he said impatiently. “You’d be riding like a lady -- a lady astride a horse!”

She bit her lip and then turned away, walking into the house.

Charles felt suddenly weary and exasperated, too. “Come on, boy,” he said to Rascal.

He put Sweetheart’s tack down in the barn and let the two horses reunite as he fed and groomed Rascal. Muttering to himself, he tried to calm down and let go of his impatience with Rose’s attitude toward saddles.

“Look, Charles,” she said, turning from the stove when he entered the kitchen. “Look at my dress. See? It would be impossible for me to even consider riding astride a horse. The skirt would have to be arranged to one side of the saddle while riding.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted.

“I have a bit of money,” she said. “I can save up for a lady’s saddle.”

“I don’t need you to pay for anything,” he said, feeling as though storm clouds were gathering within him. “I can pay for things.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean…” Rose turned back to the stove.

“And we don’t need a lady’s saddle for you. We’ve got a lady’s saddle. We can figure out something for you to wear. I’ll ask over at the mercantile.” He tried to speak calmly. Hadn’t she noticed the rose that he had designed on the saddle’s horn, just for her, using a punch and chisel?

She was silent, busily stirring something in a pan. It smelled delicious and his stomach rumbled. He sat at the table.

“I could not possibly wear split skirts,” she finally said, turning to face him. She looked miserable, distressed and angry.

“Split skirts,” he said, nodding. “That’s it. Problem solved.”

“Charles, didn’t you hear me?” She stamped her foot. “No split skirts.”

All of a sudden he felt his patience snap. “Then no riding.”

“Fine!” She turned around, stirring the contents of the pan vigorously.

“Fine!” He got up and left the house, striding past the barn.

Finally, his anger burned away, leaving him feeling confused and frustrated. “Lord, why do I always forget to pray, just when I need to the most?” He took a deep breath in and let it out, looking up at the sky. The sun was getting low in the horizon; there was no fog yet. “Being married, Lord, well, it’s a lot harder than I even imagined. And I haven’t even hardly got started yet! How am I supposed to not lose my patience when she… when she just doesn’t see reason?” He crossed his arms and huffed, shaking his head. “Doesn’t she understand I’m just trying to keep her safe? Provide for her? Be a good husband?” He couldn’t help but smile, remembering her defiant shaking of her head and the sparks snapping in her eyes. “Side-saddle!” His smile became a grin. “What am I going to do with her?”

He turned and began walking back to the house. “Rose?” He called out to her, looking in each room. “Rose!”

“I’m right here!” She waved to him as she left the barn.

They met between the house and the barn and stood awkwardly, neither speaking.

“I saw the rose on the saddle,” she said quietly, looking down.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said at the same time, reaching for her hands.

She looked up, smiling shyly. “It’s so pretty.”

He felt his heart slam and beat double time. That sweet smile. Rose.

“I could ask Mrs. Chadding,” she said softly, “to help me sew a skirt… a riding astride skirt. Charles, I simply can’t abide calling it a split skirt.”

“I’ll never call it that, I promise,” he said, trying not to smile. He pulled her closer and embraced her carefully, keeping distance between them.

†

On Saturday, Rose and Charles rode to the river. The horses walked slowly, touching noses often. The sun was high overhead, warming the earth and releasing a sweet, grassy scent.

“We’ll be there soon,” said Charles.

Rose nodded happily, looking into his eyes with a smile. She regarded the land around her. “Everything looks different when you’re on top of a horse. Better!”

“Hold on tight, though,” he said, smiling.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m safe on Sweetheart. And on my saddle!”

Mrs. Chadding had eagerly accepted the challenge of creating a riding skirt. Using an old dress, she cut and tailored it to Rose’s measurements and cut out a swath of material in the center of the skirt. She sewed up the inseams and added some lace from old petticoats at the hem of each side. Rose and Mrs. Chadding were very pleased with the result. Charles said he was, too, and that she looked as lovely as a rose.

As they rode down the dirt path, he said, “You’re pretty as a picture, Rose. You’re a lady through and through.”

She blushed and smiled, looking away. Then she asked, “How fast can we go?”

“Slow,” he said. “Real slow.”

“Next time, though,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Next time, just see if you can keep up with Sweetheart and me.”

Charles looked at her, stunned, before slowly smiling. “Is that right?”

She nodded, looking straight ahead, knowing he was gazing at her. She tried not to smile.