The Brides of Chance Collection (61 page)

“And that’s not all, folks. We have another special occasion that fine day. I’m pleased to announce that the marriage of my brother Paul to Delilah Chadwick will also be taking place.”

A hush fell over the crowd before ominous rumblings began. Hats moved back and forth as men shook their heads. Paul stood up next to Gideon.

“Everyone’s invited.” It did no good. Paul looked out at the sea of faces and saw set jaws, menacing scowls, and knuckles cracking.

Elias Scudd jumped to his feet. “Oh, no, ya don’t, Paul Chance.” He jerked a thumb toward Delilah. “This un’s spoken for.”

Paul crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, she is. By me.”

“That ain’t what he meant, and you know it!” Ross Dorsey yelled near the back rows.

“Why don’t you explain it to me.” Paul refused to lose his good humor. In all honesty, he couldn’t blame the menfolk for being put out with him. “Who’s spoken for her?”

In an instant, benches crashed to the ground as the men of Reliable jumped up to stand their ground. Every male on the premises let loose a resounding “Me!”

“She can only have one husband,” Reba managed to choke out before she burst out laughing.

“We know!”

“Just so long as his last name ain’t Chance,” Rusty growled as the crowd rumbled agreement.

“We done told ya from the first that was the way it had to be,” Elias Scudd shouted.

“Yeah!”

“Sure as shootin’!”

Ross Dorsey shook a fist. “You greedy gophers already got two fine wimmen to care for ya!”

“Leave somethin’ for the rest of us!” Rusty roared as the men became more worked up by the minute.

“She’s ain’t a flapjack, fellas!” Obie, Hezzy, and Mike waded to the front. “Ya cain’t go claimin’ her like that.”

“Sure we can!” someone shouted back.

“No, ya cain’t. Ya hafta treat a woman proper. Now if Miz Delilah wants ta marry up with Paul here”—Hezzy clapped Paul’s shoulder so hard his knees just about buckled—“you’ll hafta git your own brides.” Obie glowered from under bushy brows.

“Whatsa matter with you MacPhersons? None of y’all have a bride, neither!” Scudd glared right back.

“Sure we do.” Mike stepped forward when Scudd scoffed at him.

“Yeah, right. How come nobody’s seen ’em?” Rusty challenged.

“They’ll be here afore winter.” Hezzy rocked back on his heels.

Stunned, the men stayed silent for a heartbeat. Then someone offered a tentative, “How’d ya manage that?”

“Like I said, ya gotta court a fine woman, gentlemen. We wrote to ’em and asked ’em ta come down.”

“Yee-haw! More women are on the way!” Everyone got riled up again at that realization.

“Now see here,” Obie barked. “Temperance, Eunice, and Lois are taken. Don’t you be thinkin’ they’s fair game.”

Groans filled the air. “Aw, come on!”

Paul decided this had gone on long enough. “If you left sweethearts back home, I say you should write to them. Travel a bit—find the woman who makes you happy. But I’ve already found mine, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

The throng parted when Delilah swept past the overturned benches to stand beside Paul. “I know you’re all fine men, and I’d be honored to marry any one of you.”

Elias Scudd preened at that comment, while Ross Dorsey smoothed his sideburns.

“But you see…” She laced her fingers through Paul’s. “I’ve given my heart to Paul Chance. I had hoped you’d all come to our wedding and share our happiness.”

Everyone stayed silent for a stretch, the only sound the scuffling of boots in the dust as every man looked down, ashamed.

“Of course we will, Miz Delilah!” Rusty promised from the back.

Amid a flurry of “Of course we will’s,” Delilah stood up on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on Paul’s cheek. Life had never been better.

Delilah peeked out from behind the barn door and felt her heart might burst from fullness. Paul stood at a makeshift altar, dressed in his Sunday best and looking like the most handsome man on earth. The benches fairly groaned as everyone in Reliable settled in.

Miriam cuddled Caleb in her arms while Gideon held her. Logan and Bryce sat near the end, holding a place for the girls. Titus began singing “Blest Be the Tie That Binds” as he and Alisa marched down the aisle of benches to take their respective positions of best man and matron of honor. Polly carried a basket and strewed petals from their garden as she passed, grabbing handfuls and dropping them in tiny clumps. Ginny Mae toddled after her, carting along a patient Shortstack in a stranglehold until they reached their bench and plopped down in front of Reba and Gus.

All of these people had come to Delilah’s wedding because they cared for her.
Thank You, Lord. You have blessed me beyond my biggest hopes
.

“Ready?” Daniel offered her his arm and a rare smile as she gave her golden dress one last brush.

Delilah dimly realized that everyone got to their feet as she came into view, but she kept her gaze fixed on Paul and his smile, full of love and warm promise. She was a gambler’s daughter and had sworn not to follow in her father’s footsteps. But here she stood with everyone she loved, taking a Chance who would change her entire life. She’d come home at last.

LAST CHANCE

by Cathy Marie Hake

Dedication

To Genevieve O’Brien
.
She reared her younger brothers and sisters
,
crossed the United States in a covered wagon, killed snakes and cooked them
,
and became a nurse. Unable to have children of her own, she legally adopted one boy
.
She also opened her heart to my mom when Dad was oversees in the service and became “Grandma Peggy” to us kids in the fullest, most loving sense of the word
.

Chapter 1

Salt Lick Holler, Kentucky, June 1872

I
cain’t have it. No, I cain’t.” Silk Trevor stood on the rickety porch of her shack and hung on to either side of the doorsill like a crawdad with juicy bait in both pincers. “You go on ahead and leave my kin here.”

Lovejoy Spencer set down her battered canvas valise and carefully unhinged the troublesome brass clasp. She’d expected Silk to kick up a fuss. The strap securing her dulcimer to her back slashed taut across her bosom as she crouched, but the real tightness in her chest came from thinking the whole arrangement might fall apart if Silk didn’t cooperate. Drawing a jar from the valise, Lovejoy whispered, “Lord, have mercy and let this work.”

After rising and taking a step closer, she held out her offering. “Blackberry jam, Miz Silk—my special recipe. I reckon it’ll take away a wee bit of the bitterness of the day. Each time you spread a dab on that delicious bread of yourn, you cain think on how you’ve sent yore nieces off to a better life.”

Silk’s tears miraculously stopped. Her eyes narrowed. “You think a half-pint’s all the both of them are worth?”

“All the gold in heaven wouldn’t begin to buy such fine young gals,” Lovejoy responded without hesitation. “Fact is, I’m not buying them. Jesus ransomed their souls from Lucifer.”

“Glory be!” Silk let go of the doorjamb and lifted her hands in praise.

“And there’s not a body in all of Salt Lick Holler who doesn’t know you’ve done right by Eunice and Lois. The MacPhersons from up at Hawk’s Fall remembered them and honored your family by sending a bridal offer.”

Tempy stepped up and nodded. “My sister’s right, Miz Silk. Why, everyone here in Salt Lick and folks clear up at Hawk’s Fall are all going to ponder on what a wondrous thing you did, rearing Eunice and Lois so the MacPhersons kept pining after them even after moving clear across the country.”

It took considerable effort for Lovejoy to keep from flashing her baby sister a smile. At eighteen, Tempy was smart as a whip. If she tried, the girl could likely charm a snake into a knot. From the way Silk perked up, Lovejoy knew her sister had hit the right note.

She chimed in, “Abner MacPherson set all of Salt Lick into a dither when he rode over from Hawk’s Fall to deliver the greenbacks. His boys have been sending money home regular-like and still had enough to buy not one, but three train tickets. Bucks like them could snap up any woman, but they picked your nieces.”

“Now it’s a fact, they did,” Silk granted.

“That’s sayin’ plenty,” Lovejoy continued. “They’re bright young women, and you’ve always done what’s best for them.”

Silk let out a woebegone sigh. “You truly aim to go along, Lovejoy Spencer? I don’t want my girls out in that wild world on their own.”

“I give you my word. I’ll travel the whole way. They’ll be married right and tight to good men who’ll provide well for them.”

Silk nodded. “I reckon that’s the best a body could hope for.” The minute she plodded out of the doorway, Eunice and Lois hustled out with a trunk betwixt themselves. Pa didn’t get down from the buckboard to help, but no one really expected him to. Lovejoy and Tempy helped hoist the trunk onto the wagon bed; then hugs, kisses, and the blackberry jam were traded. They all piled on, and Pa drove them to the pass.

Not a yard went by that Lovejoy didn’t study with a mixture of sadness and joy. Spring brought a bounty of healing yarbs. As a healer, Lovejoy knew a wealth of uses for each plant. Smelly as they were, the wild leeks they called ramps could cure many a complaint. Coltsfoot, teaberry, burdock—each belonged in her healing arsenal. Gathering as much as she could of those and dozens upon dozens of other plants in these last few weeks, Lovejoy hoped she’d stored up enough for when she returned.

And she would return to the raw beauty of Kentucky. But she’d be leaving her beloved baby sister clear off in Californy.
’Tis a good life a-waitin’ her. I’ll dwell on that thought
.

The train wasn’t supposed to stop at the pass. Then again, once a week Pa just happened to be sitting there waiting. He’d hand up jugs of moonshine, empty jugs got passed back down, and he’d leave with a smile and a pocketful of cash money.

Last week he’d arranged for the girls to ride clear across these United States to San Francisco, then for the stage ride to Reliable where the MacPhersons lived. He’d groused at the cost as if he’d paid for the tickets himself. When Lovejoy announced she was going as a chaperone, he flatly refused to pay for her.

She’d not given in, though.

Her baby sister was about to be a bride. So were Eunice and Lois. The MacPherson brothers had written a letter asking the three gals to come out and do them the honor of becoming their wives. Truth was, Lovejoy determined to go along regardless of the cost. These young gals weren’t going to marry up with the MacPhersons unless the men passed her muster.

She’d been bound in a marriage that brought nothing but misery. Long as she drew breath, she refused to let Tempy—or any gal—get roped into matrimony if all it would become was a noose.

Being a widow woman of the ripe age of four-and-twenty, Lovejoy didn’t answer to any man. Added to that, she owned a small place and was a trained granny-woman. Folks came to her for all sorts of other healing, too. Chickens, cheese, a bottle of molasses—her patients paid however and whatever they could afford. Hardscrabble as they lived, it amounted to precious little. That being the case, the notion that Tempy, Eunice, and Lois might have a better life out in Californy made Lovejoy pry up the floorboard and pull out the precious stash of coins she kept in a coffee can for a rainy day.

Stooped with age, Widow Hendricks reckoned she’d be able to fill in for a season as the healer—seein’ as that season would be warm and dry. With the dear Lord providing enough money for Lovejoy to make the trip and someone to tend the folks back home, she felt certain it was His will for her to go.

When Pa realized he’d not stop her, he’d gone off and gotten roostered on his own ’shine. Years ago, Lovejoy had Tempy move in with her, and Pa had a habit of showing up at suppertime more often than not. His other daughters—married and up to their hips in young’uns—never had a place for him at their tables. Lovejoy’s only rule was that she wouldn’t open her door to him if he was drunk. He’d shown up that night reeking of the devil’s brew and making wild threats. If anything, that only strengthened her resolve. Lovejoy wanted her sister away from this.

Now at the pass, Pa jerked the trunk and satchels off the wagon—more out of the need to reach his moonshine than to be a gentleman. He lined up the jugs and helped himself to a stiff belt of who-hit-John from the flask he habitually carried. “You oughtn’t tag along,” he said to Lovejoy.

Her stomach roiled when she caught a whiff of his fetid breath. She dug in her heels. “Mama put Tempy under my wing back on the day she was born.”

“Your ma woulda done better to give me sons ’stead of a passel of girls.” He took another swig.

“I know you loved her in your own way, Pa. God rest her soul, Mama loved you back.” Mama had turned a blind eye to Pa’s still because it was the only way they could put food on the table. By the time Lovejoy was sixteen, Pa married her off to Vern Spencer. Jug-bit men did foolish things, and both Pa and Vern did their share of drinking. Lovejoy still believed Pa was a good man when he wasn’t drinking; just two days after Vern took her to wife, she knew she couldn’t say the same for him. The four years of marriage that followed felt like forty.