The Brides of Chance Collection (54 page)

“Oh yes. I see it here, along with ‘nice-sounding voices.’ Um, I believe I heard you mention something about how they look?” she prodded.

“Yep. Hair redder’n a rooster’s comb,” Hezzy complimented.

Red hair, Delilah made a note, omitting the comparison to a rooster. “And you said something about their eyes….”

Obie and Hezzy stared fixedly at the tabletop, so Delilah took a deep breath and pressed on. “I seem to remember you said they were shiny?”

Obie brightened and jabbed a thumb toward Hezzy. “Yep. He said as how they’s jist as shiny as a mud puddle.”

Delilah bit back a laugh at the extravagant praise. “Hmmm…might I suggest something a bit more romantic?”

Hezzy frowned in concentration, then broke into a self-satisfied grin. “Sure. How ’bout eyes jist as shiny as a mud puddle….” He paused to slant a triumphant look at Mike. “In the moonlight.”

“Why, Hezzy, that’s almost like po’try!” Obie slapped his brother’s shoulder.

“Some things just don’t sound the same on paper.” Delilah diplomatically rejected the entire mud-puddle comparison. “How about ‘browner than…’ ” She paused to think, belatedly realizing her mistake when they began offering suggestions.

“Dirt?” Obie supplied.

“Aw, ya don’ say she’s like dirt.” Hezzy spared Delilah having to reject that pearl. “How ’bout bark?”

Her relief faded like a curtain left too long in the sun. “You know, there are different kinds of bark, so maybe you want to be more specific.”

“A chaw o’ tobaccy?”

“A tater?” Soon the suggestions were flying through the air so fast, Delilah didn’t even have to comment.

“Boot leather?”

“Molasses?”

“Fresh coffee?”

“Oh, that’s a good un, Obie,” Hezzy approved. “But ladies don’ always like coffee like we’uns. How ’bout ‘the wings of a June bug’?”

With dismay, Delilah realized all three thought this analogy had merit. “Well, I don’t know. I don’t much like insects, myself.”

Mike spoke up for the first time. “How ’bout brown as a fawn’s coat?”

“Wonderful,” Delilah praised, writing it down and moving on before they could suggest anything else. “And I understand you wrote something to Temperance, Mike?”

“All done with that.”

“So they’re sweet, with nice voices, red hair, brown eyes, and an aunt we’ll need to win over. Is there anything else I’m missing?” She clearly needed to end this session before they backed her into a corner with their woeful wooing.

Hezzy spoke up. “They cook a right fine meal.”

“And they’s good gals. Not loose or…or anythin’.” Obie wouldn’t meet Delilah’s eyes.

“God-fearin’ folk,” Hezzy affirmed.

“And I’ve already explained to Tempy about our spread and what’s waitin fer ’em,” Mike assured her.

“Well, gentleman, I’ll write this up and show you a draft next Sunday.” She rose from the table, and the brothers followed suit.

“Much obliged,” Mike said.

As the brothers made their way out of the cabin, Delilah paused to wonder whether any man would ever write her a romantic letter.

Chapter 13

A
s most of the town headed back home after church that Sunday, the MacPhersons and Whites lingered at Chance Ranch.

Delilah looked at the three expectant faces before her, and the enormity of the situation sank in like never before. So much hinged on her writing—the dreams of Obie and Hezzy, the futures of Eunice and Lois—her throat went dry. Obie hunkered down to rub Shortstack’s tummy as the kitten purred happily.

“I tried to mention everything you shared with me,” she began, “so I’ll just read it to you, and we’ll see if you’d like to change any of it:

Dear Miss Eunice and Miss Lois Trevor
,

I, Delilah Chadwick, am writing this letter on behalf of my neighbors
,

Obadiah and Hezekiah MacPherson, who pray you are well. These upstanding brothers hold you in high regard and speak fondly of you both
.

They describe your hair as rivaling a blazing sunset and admire your eyes as being as soft and brown as a fawn’s spring coat. They tell me you are good, God-fearing women who will come alongside their men to make a home for their families
.

They hope you remember the time they visited your home to purchase their hunting dog and ask you to pass along their compliments to your aunt and uncle for raising two such fine young women
.

If you are agreeable and not already spoken for, the Misters MacPherson will send fare for your journey to their spread as their intended brides
.

We send this in the care of Miss Temperance Spencer, whose hand Micah

MacPherson has requested. They earnestly hope she will be your companion as you travel to Reliable, California
.

Sincerely yours
,
Obie and Hezzy MacPherson

“Whooeee, if that don’t turn they heads, sure as shootin’ nothin’ will.” Hezzy clapped Obie on the shoulder. “We’s gonna have us some brides, Brother!”

“Yep. That sounded so fine, I reckon if ’n I got it, I’d marry us.” Obie beamed at Delilah.

“How soon can we send it?” Mike got straight down to business.

“Oh, I’ll take it back to town with me this evening, seal it, and send it out with the next batch of post.” Reba White walked over. “So you boys are fixin’ to get hitched, eh?”

“Yes’m,” Obie and Hezzy chorused.

“All right. I’ll let you know just as soon as they write back.” Reba took the envelope from Delilah as they all exchanged good-byes.

“So we’ll be seeing you on Thursday?” Delilah asked, knowing Miriam had invited the older woman over for a girls’ sewing day.

“It’s amazing how mending can pile up.” Reba laughed ruefully. “And I’ve even got a quilt that’s only half-finished. It’ll do me good to spend a day in the company of women.”

“All right, now this is just a first lesson, so no need to be nervous.” Finally, they were alone. Paul caught Delilah glancing from the reins to the horse and back again.

“Just the same, maybe we ought to wait until your arm is a bit better—in case…” Her voice faded as she looked at him pleadingly.

“Any woman who can wield a knife and shoot like you can has no need to fear driving,” he consoled. “Besides, you already know how to handle a horse when you ride.”

“That’s because I can get the feel of the animal. I can touch him or use my voice to calm him down if he gets excited or frightened. I know that an animal that doesn’t know you won’t trust you. They sense when the person guiding them is hesitant or doubtful.”

“Speck is my horse. I trained him up from a colt—that’s why he pulls the wagon, too. We understand each other, so he won’t give us any trouble.”

Delilah eyed the sling on Paul’s arm with obvious misgivings but held her tongue.

Appreciating her tact, Paul decided to try it her way. “Would you feel better if you gave old Speck here some carrots and patted him a bit before we go? That way you could get to know him.”

“Yes, I think that just might work.” Relief colored her voice, and a smile returned to her lips.

“Do you feel comfortable holding his reins while I go grab some of those carrots?” She nodded, and he went to fetch some sugar cubes and carrots.

Lord, if I can say one thing about this woman Thou hast brought into my life, it’s that she’s consistent. She doesn’t trust Thee, and until she does, she can’t trust me, and Speck doesn’t stand a chance. I wonder whether she even trusts herself. Please be with us today so she’ll feel the peace of Thy presence and gain no further reason to withdraw from others
.

“You’re a handsome fella.” Paul squelched a spurt of envy when he realized Delilah was crooning to Speck. She stroked his mane and grinned at Paul when he stepped next to her.

“He’s a beautiful animal, Paul. Sweet, too.” She took the chunks of carrot and held them out to Speck, giggling when he lipped them from her hand.

“Kind of tickles, doesn’t it?” Paul commiserated as Speck chomped his treat and buried his nose in her hands, searching for more.

“Now don’t be greedy,” Delilah chided. “We’re going for a little ride, and afterward you can have some more. Ready?”

Paul helped her into the buckboard, then jumped in beside her. “Now to get Speck going, you give the reins a bit of a flick and give him the command.” To illustrate, he clacked his tongue, and the wagon gave a slight lurch as Speck obeyed. “I want you to hold the reins with both hands.” He waited until she had them securely in her hands before letting go.

“And I just hold them?”

“Make sure you don’t let the line go slack, or he can have his head and yank the reins out of your hand. Then we have a runaway wagon.”

She blanched, and he hastened to reassure her. “Just keep a good grip on them.” Her knuckles went white as she clutched on to the leather. “How’s this?”

“If you keep on like that, you’ll cramp up. Relax a little. Pulling the reins will make him slow down. If you say, ‘Whoa, boy,’ and tug on them, he’ll stop.”

“Good. Whoa, boy,” Delilah called, tightening the reins. A relieved smile crossed her face as the buckboard came to a halt. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Very good,” Paul praised. “But if you’re going faster, remember you’ll need to slow down before telling him to stop, or it’ll be too sudden.”

“Makes sense.” Delilah, obviously feeling more in control, flicked the reins and clacked her tongue, grinning as Speck began to walk forward once again. “I think I’ve got the hang of it.”

“You’ve got starting and stopping down, but there’s a lot more to it,” he warned, not wanting her to get too complacent.

“I suppose. How do I get him to move a little faster?”

“If you want him to speed it up, you flick the reins again and tell him to giddyup. Go ahead and try it. Remember if you want him to slow down, just tug on the reins— but don’t yank.”

Soon she had Speck going at a jaunty trot. “Do you think I should try an even quicker pace?”

“If you ever actually want to get to town, you’ll have to step it up a bit. Go ahead and have him go into a slow run—a canter.”

“Oh, that’s a big difference.” Delilah gasped and tugged the reins, breathing more easily when the horse dropped back into a clip. “You did a wonderful job training him. He does exactly what I ask.”

Paul refused to puff up like a rooster at the compliment. “Animals are a lot like people. It takes time to earn their trust, but when you do, it’s always worth the wait.”

She stayed silent for a moment, then asked in a small voice, “Always?”

“Always,” he repeated firmly. “Some take more time than others, but those are the ones who are most worth the effort.” This time she didn’t respond at all.

He reached over and took the reins from her. “We’d best be getting back. Reba’ll be here soon.”

Lost in thought, Delilah washed her hands slowly. Paul hadn’t just been talking about horses.

He wants me to trust him, and I already trust him more than any man I’ve ever known—even Papa. As much as I loved him, he couldn’t keep promises he made to himself
,
much less the ones he gave to me. Paul has never broken his word to me or anyone else as far as I’ve seen. But that’ll just make it so much harder when he finally does. No one’s perfect
,
so how can I trust him more than I already do?

As she dried her hands, she wiped away the unsettling thoughts, then went to the parlor, where Reba, Alisa, and Miriam waited. Davie had a cold, so Widow Greene couldn’t make it, and it was simply understood that Priscilla couldn’t be bothered to stitch hems.

“I brought by some flannel for you, Miriam. Thought after we took care of the mending, we could make a few things for your firstborn son.”

“So you think the baby will be a boy, too?” Alisa asked, slanting Delilah a victorious look.

“Be mighty surprised if we didn’t have another Chance man on the ranch soon, seein’ as how his papa has five brothers,” Reba confirmed.