The Brides of Chance Collection (63 page)

“I never thought of them that way, but you got the drift of it.” Tempy looked at Lovejoy. “Reckon we ought to pick this up and step lively.”

Each of them took hold of the hickory broom handles and hefted. “Let’s sing so we step in time,” Lovejoy suggested. She thought for a moment then started in, “We’re marching to Zion, beautiful, beautiful Zion….”

The sun had set, and she’d begun to worry that they’d made the wrong decision about which fork to take a mile ago when she spied a group of buildings ahead. “Pony up, gals. The chimney’s smokin’, and yonder’s your future.”

The tempo of the hymn and their footsteps picked up. Just as they drew even with the first building, a huge bear of a man stepped from the shadow and blocked their path. “This isn’t Zion, so you can just turn around and march the other way.”

Chapter 2

T
he short, brown-haired gal closest to him laughed.

Daniel glowered at her.

“Now there speaks a man in sore want of his supper.” Merriment rang in her voice. Even in the twilight, her hazel eyes sparkled. As she spoke, she somehow managed to ease something into his hand. A stick.

“If you tell us where to go, we’ll be happy to put together something that’ll fill your belly.”

The stick was attached to an odd affair and carried considerable weight. How a scrap of a woman managed to carry it was beyond him, but Daniel refused to be sidetracked. “Ma’am, I already told you where to go—turn around and march the other way. You’d best be quick about it. It’s going dark.”

“He’s ’bout as friendly as a riled porcupine.”

“I’m fixin’ to tell my intended to turn him loose and let him find labor elsewhere.”

The spunky one up front cut in, “Gals, be charitable. He’s probably worked long and hard today.” She tried to take the stick back from him.

Daniel refused to let go.

“You cain turn loose now, mister. I brung hale gals. They mebbe tired, but you’ll see they don’t quail at totin’ a fair load.”

“Daniel!” Gideon called from a ways off. “Who are you talking to?”

In the slim minutes since he’d met the troop of women, the sky had darkened significantly. Daniel hated admitting defeat, but he couldn’t send four defenseless women into the night. “Don’t know who they are.”

“That other feller don’t sound like he’s from back home,” one of the redheads in the back whispered.

“I’m Lovejoy Spencer, mister. These gals are under my wing. I’m to deliver them to the MacPhersons.” She stared up into his eyes and tacked on, “And I’m figurin’ we shoulda veered t’other direction back at the road’s bend.”

“Give me this.” He tugged her out of the way and hefted the entire load onto his back. “Gideon, the mail-order brides got turned around. I’m walking them over to the MacPhersons’.”

“Way too late for that. Ladies, come on in. The women are setting supper on the table.”

“We don’t want to be a bother.”

Daniel snorted. “Miss Spencer, it’s the nature of women to do just that.”

“Pardon Daniel. He’s always surly. I’m Gideon Chance.”

To Daniel’s relief, his brother assumed half the burden.
How were those scrawny little women hauling this?
“We can take this on over to the barn and—”

“The main house,” Gideon interrupted. “Ladies, you’d do well to follow along behind us.” He raised his voice and called to his wife, “Miriam!”

Daniel didn’t move. He squinted at Lovejoy and the woman standing by her side. “The bows and quivers aren’t going inside.”

“Bows and—oh! ’Tisn’t that a’tall. Mine is a dulcimer, and Tempy’s toting a mandolin.”

“Wonderful,” Gideon said as he started walking so Dan had to move to keep from dumping the trunk. “Perhaps you could grace us with a tune or two after supper.”

Once they got inside the main house, Dan set down his end of the trunk and turned to get a better look at the women. Miriam and Delilah were making a big fuss over them. The redheads and the one with a mandolin across her back all jostled about the washstand. Lovejoy knelt on the floor on the far side of the table. She had her head tilted to the side and an arm about Polly’s shoulders, while gently dabbing at his daughter’s runny nose.

“Polly. Ginny Mae.” He clapped his hands. “Come to Daddy.”

Lovejoy released Polly and nimbly gained her feet. “The Lord shorely blessed you with such lassies, Mr. Chance.”

He nodded curtly.

“There are only three MacPhersons; I’m countin’ four women.” Bryce bit his lip and stared at the gals.

“I’m a widow woman. Came ’long to be sure the girls would be happy. Then I’m a-goin’ back home. I’m Lovejoy Spencer. This here’s my baby sister, Temperance.” She then gestured toward the two gals whose hair matched the color of a terra-cotta flowerpot. “Eunice and Lois are our neighbors from back home.”

Gideon introduced the Chance clan. These gals from the backwoods would probably remember how to tell apart Miriam, Delilah, and Alisa because they were respectively blond, black haired, and in the motherly way. Daniel figured it was an exercise in futility when it came to the strangers recalling his brothers’ names.

“You’ve met Daniel,” Gideon yammered on. “Paul is Delilah’s husband. Titus is married to Alisa. Logan and Bryce are the young ones.”

While folks exchanged pleasantries and carried food to the matched pair of tables, Daniel got waylaid by Ginny Mae for a few minutes. Both of his daughters acted a mite cranky, but with all the hoopla, he wasn’t too surprised.

Logan elbowed his way to the table and sat between the redheaded sisters. “Parson Abe preached about Eunice and Lois a few months back. They were in the Bible, you know.”

Alisa passed the corn to Lovejoy. “I’ve never heard of anyone bearing your name before.”

Lovejoy hitched her shoulder. “Ma named us girls all after the fruits of the Spirit. After me, she decided she’d best slow down and limit herself to one apiece, ’cept she skipped over longsuffering because ’twas a vicious mean handle to slap on a dab of a babe.”

“You have a sister named Gentleness?” Alisa couldn’t mask her surprise.

“Yes’m,” Temperance answered. “Call her Nessie. Goodness—well, since we couldn’t right well have us two Nessies, we call her Goody.”

“Peace died of the whooping cough,” Eunice said.

Chiming right in, Lois said, “And then their Ma skipped over using Meekness and gave Tempy her name ’cuz she was a-prayin’ her man would stop brewing moonshine.”

The room suddenly went silent. Ginny coughed, Daniel patted her on the back, then Tempy acted as if nothing had been said amiss. “Lovejoy’s a healer back home. If comfort were one of the fruits of the spirit, Mama should have given that name to Lovejoy.”

Dan didn’t care much about the conversation. He had other things on his mind, but from what he saw, Comfort would have been an apt name for the young widow sitting beside him. She’d been soothing Polly from the minute she arrived. Once he shoveled in his own meal and managed to get Ginny Mae to have a few slurps of soup, he begged off any further social obligation and took the girls back to their cabin.

“Ain’t niver seen a place so extraordinary as this here ranch,” Lois said as they got ready for bed.

“I’m liable to pinch myself black and blue,” her sister said. “Do you imagine our beaux will have such a fine spread?”

“They haven’t been here long enough.” Tempy’s voice sounded muffled as she squirmed into her flannel nightdress.

“It’s not just what they have right now; you have to imagine what a place you’ll be able to carve out with your men as your years unfold,” Lovejoy said as she plaited her hair.

“I cain scarce believe this.” Lois climbed into a bed and scooted over to make room for her sister. “Above-the-ground beds—and just two of us in each!”

“Cain you fathom it—this whole cabin is just for them two younger boys. They each got a bed to themselves.” Eunice crept in by Lois and thumped the pillow. “I’m thinkin’ we could match ’em up with Uncle Asa’s girls.”

“Hold your horses.” Lovejoy looked at her three charges. “Nothing’s for certain yet—not for any of you. ’Til I’m positive those MacPherson boys are good husband material, no one’s hot footin’ it to the altar. Worldly goods don’t count for much when a woman’s heart is achin’ from being hitched to a bad ’un.”

“Don’t worry for me, Lovey.” Tempy buttoned her gown. “Whilst you tended Mike’s mama in her last days, I got to know him. A better man I’ll never find. Not a doubt tarries in my mind ’bout him and me being happy together.”

“We recollect Obadiah and Hezekiah from when they come to buy their hound.” Lois yawned. “They stayed to supper.”

“The hounds stayed, or the men?” Tempy teased.

They all laughed. Tempy gave Lovejoy a hug and whispered, “Don’t worry, Sis. It won’t be like you and Vern.”

Lovejoy’s breath caught. She gave her sister a big squeeze and pulled away. She didn’t discuss her marriage. Ever. “Guess I’d best blow out the lantern. Say your prayers and sleep well.”

Exhausted from travel and toting that trunk, the others fell asleep almost at once. Lovejoy couldn’t—not after having heard Vern’s name. The memory of the children he fathered with two other women haunted her even years after he’d died.
Lord above, when will his betrayal stop hurtin’?

Before morning broke, Lovejoy slipped out of bed. She dressed and tucked a knife in her leather sheath before grabbing a gunnysack and shimmying out the door. Purply blue with a mere glimmer of fading moonlight, the sky held the moisture of dew and the squawks of scrappy jaybirds. She took a deep breath of crisp air then let it out and set to walking.

“’Morning, Lord. Thou hast outdone Thyself here. Cain’t say as I expected it. Home was beautiful, but here—well, it just seems more green than gritty.”

She took out her knife and started to identify plants and harvest leaves, bark, and roots. Back inside that dandy little cabin, her healin’ satchel held some of the things she used most often, but it would be wise to start Tempy off with a supply of her own. More important, those wee lassies in the cabin next door coughed during the night. They’d been on the fractious side at supper last evening, too. Might as well put together a few things for this household while she was at it.

She hoped and prayed the Chances were right about the MacPhersons. They all spoke well of the bachelors ’round the table last night. Why, if Obie, Hezzy, and Mike turned out half as favorable as they sounded, her charges were trading up to a far better life than they would have had back in Salt Lick Holler.

Fine folks, these Chances. They’d make for good neighbors. The three married brothers and their wives billed and cooed like turtledoves when they didn’t think a body was a-watching, and the two youngest lads were right cute saplings. Too bad about that widow man Daniel. He’s got hisself two darlin’ little daughters, but he’s grouchier than an earlywoke springtime bear
.

Daniel tossed off the blanket and sat on the edge of his bed. His stomach growled. The last thing he wanted was to go to breakfast, because those women would be there. His brothers and their wives never expected him to make much conversation—especially first thing in the morning. Their uninvited guests wouldn’t know better.

Those three young hillbilly women chattered nineteen to the dozen last night. At least Lovejoy Spencer hadn’t bothered him much. Instead, she’d held Polly on her lap and gently coaxed her to get through supper. He’d done his best to stay civil through the meal, and he’d done fairly well to his way of thinking. Coming back to the house right after eating was supposed to be an escape. He didn’t feel like getting trapped into conversation, and the girls needed to go to bed. Nonetheless, he’d heard the music from the house and known the bitter tang of loneliness.

Coughs sounded from his daughters’ cabin. They were both out of sorts last night. He wouldn’t be surprised if they caught colds. Taking them on over to Miriam and asking her for some elixir would be wise.

He stood, stretched, and yanked on his clothes. His first inclination was to pad over in his bare feet, but since he’d take the girls to the main house, he might as well lace on his boots. Both socks on and the first boot laced, he couldn’t stand it anymore. His baby girls were starting to sound downright croupy. Dan opened the door to the “hallway” and felt a flare of relief that the doors existed. Normally, he left them wide open so he could hear the girls, but he’d shut them last night to keep the stove’s precious heat from escaping.