The Brides of Chance Collection (19 page)

“Is Miriam gonna be okay? Dan said she got it bad.”

“Got what?”

“Oh. I thought you knew. Dan said—”

Unwilling to be spoken about and well aware the secret was out, she yanked open the door and snapped, “I was an idiot. There. Now leave me alone.”

Chapter 16

G
ideon whistled under his breath. Red blazed across Miriam’s face, but it owed more to rash than embarrassment. He studied her face, her throat, and looked down at her hands. She’d kept them clasped behind her back, and he suspected she wanted to hide the full extent of her exposure.

“Aw, sweet pea. You tangled with poison oak, didn’t you?”

“So Daniel said. I had no notion what it was.”

He heaved a sigh. “It’s wild. Grows all over.”

“And you never mentioned it to me?”

If glares could kill, Gideon reckoned he’d be pushing up daisies about now. “I’ll go fetch some milk and churn it. Mama used buttermilk on us whenever we—”

“I’ll churn my own buttermilk.”

“No.” He pointed at the bed. “You go have a rest. The salt from sweat only makes the rash itch worse.”

She gave him a horrified look. “Are you implying I sweat, Gideon Chance?”

He had the sinking feeling whatever he said, it would only make matters worse. He opted for escape. “I’ll be back. Leave your door open so your cottage has lots of fresh air—”

“So I won’t sweat?”

Figuring he’d be signing his own death warrant no matter what he said, Gideon left. Her door was shut when he returned, and he couldn’t help chuckling. Feisty as could be, Miriam wasn’t about to show any weakness, and this wasn’t really anything more than a bout of misery. He drummed his fingers on her windowpane.

The yellow curtain swished to the side, and a slate appeared. “Leave me be,” he read aloud.

The slate disappeared as the curtain swished back down.

“All right, Miriam. I’ll leave you be…” He paused, then tacked on, “u-t-t-e-r-m-i-l—”

The door opened. “You are a nuisance, Gideon.” The fire in her green eyes turned into a twinkle. “And a terrible guide. I’m holding you responsible for this tragedy.”

“You couldn’t have gotten this from where we went on our stroll. I know for a fact that path’s clear as can be.”

“You should have made sure nothing poisonous was around the property, and you certainly could have warned me about it.”

“We try to keep it hacked back, but you must have gone off the path.” Her mouth opened in a perfect O that could have denoted either shock or guilt, but Gideon didn’t want either, so he hastily added, “Truth is, no one’s sure exactly how many variations there are of the pesky stuff.”

Her speckled brow creased. “Then how do you avoid it?”

He stuck his bandanna into the gloppy buttermilk and dabbed it on her cheek. “You do your best. Other than staying where things are cleared, just remember a saying: ‘Leaves of three, let them be.’ It seems many of the varieties of poison oak bear three leaves to the stem.”

“Now you tell me,” she muttered. He nudged her chin with his thumb so he could get to her throat, but she resisted and claimed, “I can take care of myself. Just tell me how long I’m going to itch.”

“Can’t say.” He refused to stop. Dipping the bandanna back into the buttermilk, he recalled, “My last episode lasted about six days. I have water in the wash kettle comin’ to a boil so we can dunk your dress.”

“If that works with the clothes, why wouldn’t a hot bath take away my rash?”

“Because that would make life too easy.” He daubed her nose. “Life out here is never easy.”

Miriam had been trying to find things to occupy her time since Gideon decreed she wasn’t allowed to do anything for the next week. As dreadfully as she itched and as horrid as the rash looked, she didn’t exactly mind that order the first two days. In fact, adding a cup of baking soda to the big galvanized tub was the only time she got any respite.

Gideon brought over the green paisley material and the lace he’d bought in town for her. Her hands hurt, but she stitched on the dress so she wouldn’t be tempted to scratch.

“Miriam?” Paul leaned against her doorjamb. “Got any good ideas on what to make for supper?”

“What about some corn chowder?” She gave him explicit instructions and fully expected to have him return to review them a time or two. Judging from the food the men had been fixing the last few days, Miriam decided their survival bordered on the miraculous. No matter what the dish, they managed to botch it somehow or another.

She sat at the little drop-leaf desk in her cottage and finished writing another letter to her cousin. Delilah had managed to send her a note last week, and Miriam invited her to come for a visit whenever she’d like to.
It shouldn’t cause a problem if she accepts
.
Delilah can stay here in my cottage with me
.

After she pasted shut the envelope, Miriam looked out her open door and waited until she spied the next Chance to pass by. “Titus?”

“Yep?”

“I’d like to post a letter. Could you please help me hitch up the buckboard? I’ll take the girls to town with me.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Gideon said you’re off work detail until Monday. ’Sides, I just got back from town. Brought back more baking soda for you to soak in.”

“How thoughtful. That terrible itch is almost gone now, but it’s good to have a supply on hand, just in case.”

Titus scuffed his boot in the dirt. “Truth is, I was hoping maybe I could talk with you a minute or so.”

“Sure.” She left her cottage and sat out on a bench. Titus ambled alongside her, but he didn’t take a seat. Instead, he planted one boot on the bench beside her and leaned forward so he could lean on that knee.

“Something’s on your mind, Titus?”

He nodded. “A gal.”

“Hmm.”

“She’s as purty as a speckled pup, Miriam—only she’d have a hissy fit if she heard me say such a thing. She’s cultured and classy—went to a finishing school.”

“Oh, the Whites’ daughter is back?”

“That’s the one.” A slow smile lit his face. The expression made him look even more like Gideon than usual. “She came in on the stage today. You’ve never seen such a day gown. I venture she has more rows of ribbons and lace on it than—” He stopped abruptly and went ruddy.

“So she has lovely clothes.” Miriam ignored whatever avenue his mind might have been traveling and pulled him back to the subject. “Did you invite her to attend church?”

“Her mama already said they were a-comin’.”

“Then you’ll have to maneuver so as to be seated next to the lovely lady.”

“Now that’s a dandy plan.” Titus leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Priscilla just got back, but a fellow can’t wait—not around here. I’m figuring maybe I ought to pop the question straightaway, before some other buck does, so I have dibs on her.”

“Titus! Were you and Miss White courting before she left, or did you have an understanding?”

“No.” His expression turned guarded.

“How can you know if she’s the right one, then? She may be a vision of beauty, but that doesn’t mean the Lord intends your souls to be forged into one. It’s not the outward appearance that should count. You’re worth more than having a china doll on your arm, Titus. You deserve a woman who will be your helpmeet and share her heart with you.”

“I could ask Paul to move in with Gideon so I’d be able to offer her a place of our own. I’d even be willing to go into town to help her pa at the store if he needs me.”

“You’re willing to offer your goods and your muscles, Titus. That’s a start. But are you willing to share your heart? Do you even know if Priscilla has any feelings for you? Working hard and being attracted are fine, but they aren’t enough to make a marriage work.”

“I just don’t want someone else to beat me to the punch and snap her up. We don’t get many womenfolk up here.”

“You asked my opinion, and from a woman’s perspective, I have to tell you that a man who wants a bride based only on her availability or appearance isn’t the kind of man a worthy woman would wed.” She reached over and touched his arm. “Pray before you act.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised you said that, but ever notice that fellas move a lot faster than God lots of the time?”

“You’re right. Maybe that’s why the world is in such a state.”

Titus wandered off to do some praying and thinking. Miriam sat on the bench and closed her eyes. She needed to listen to her own advice. A man who wanted a woman just because she was available ought never propose. She wouldn’t put up with such a sham marriage.
Gideon might have drawn the short straw, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept if he proposes. He can just go search for a bride elsewhere
.

“Now that was a fine meal. Don’t know how you do it, but every last thing you make is a treat.” Gideon smiled at Miriam as he pulled her chair back from the supper table. She’d made a zesty chili and corn bread and topped off the meal with a fine-tasting berry pie. As far as he was concerned, life didn’t get better than that.

“Thank you. I’m glad you liked it.” She rose and began stacking dishes.

He reached over and took the plates from her and set them back down on the table. “How about going for a stroll?”

“I’d rather not.”

Her refusal surprised him. He steered her out to the porch as his brothers started to clear the table and squabble over who was supposed to wash dishes. Gideon turned her and held both arms above the elbows to be sure he wasn’t bothering any last splotches of her poison oak rash. Studying her eyes, he wondered aloud, “You’re not still sore at me about forgetting to tell you about the poison oak, are you?”

“I’ve forgiven you.”

He couldn’t resist smiling back at her. Sweetness radiated from the woman. Trailing his fingers down her soft cheek, he rumbled, “If you’re afraid I’ll walk you through a patch, I’ll carry a lantern.”

Miriam shied away from his touch. “There are better ways to shine your light.”

He chuckled at her cleverness, but he still hadn’t succeeded in his goal. He wanted to be alone with her. “Tell you what. Come with me to shut the chickens back into the coop.”

“Okay. Did you know two of the eggs this morning were double yolked?”

Most of the hens were content to get back to their nests as twilight fell. A few stubborn ones scattered and needed to be chased down. Once done with that task, Gideon shut one large door of the chicken “cabinet” as Miriam shut the other. He met her in the middle and latched it closed.

“We make a good team.” He silently congratulated himself on that segue. Surely it counted as a slick way to ease into an opportunity to pop the question.

“I’ve been impressed by the way you and your brothers work together to keep this place going.”

“That’s a mighty fine compliment.” He smiled at her. “Your opinion holds a lot of sway with me, so that makes your words count for even more.”

Miriam looked as if she were ready to head toward her cottage, and Gideon slipped a hand around her wrist to hold her back. Now that he’d worked up the courage, he wanted to get this over with.

“Miriam, you’re already part of the family, but I’d like to make it formal. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Chapter 17

Y
our offer is generous, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

Gideon stared at Miriam in disbelief. He’d never imagined she’d refuse his proposal. It was all supposed to be so easy, so practical. Miriam never stirred up problems; she solved them. What had gotten into her, to wreck his carefully laid plans?

“Why not?” He blurted out the question.

Even in the evening light, he could see the color drain from her face. “It’s not right,” she stammered. “It just won’t work.”

“But—”

“Please excuse me….” She dashed back to her cottage and shut the door so fast, a stranger would have thought the hounds of Hades were on her heels.

Gideon beat his hat against his thigh and headed toward the barn. He needed time alone. Never had it occurred to him that Miriam wouldn’t consider the two of them to be a suitable match. At the moment, he had to figure out what to do next.

Unfortunately, Paul was in the barn. He folded his arms on the top of a stall door. “Well, when’s the big day?”