Ethan's Wild Rose Bride (Texas Frontier Brides Book 2) Read online

  She sighed. A gentleman to run her ranch would certainly be a benefit to her. And a Mr. Sherman wrote that he was tall and strong. She blinked as a picture of Ethan flashed through her mind. She sniffed loudly and set down the cup of coffee. It was silly to think of Ethan. He wanted a wife, and it was clear that she was not the woman he wanted. Else there would be no need to write that letter he was working so hard to accomplish.

  How could an unknown woman be better for him than herself? She shook her head. The man was a curiosity, that was for sure. And it would do no good to pine after someone that she couldn’t have. Still, it hurt to think that he never saw her in the way that she wished for. Apparently, he hadn’t noticed how her voice broke or her hands trembled when she was around him. He probably thought she had a cold or was just the nervous type.

  Perhaps that really was it. If he thought she was weak and nervous. . .no, she had to be honest with herself. He just looked right through her whenever they were together. She was his teacher, not a woman who was wife material. No doubt, he considered her a friend, but nothing more. And once he had that wife he was looking for, whatever friendship the two of them shared would be severed forever.

  She blinked away the tears that stung her eyelids. Wallowing in self-pity would accomplish nothing. Perhaps she should take another look at that paper, she thought, glancing toward the table.

  ***

  Ethan whistled a wobbly version of Amazing Grace, as he worked. The tune seemed stuck in his head, lately. His mother had hummed it whenever she did her work, whether scrubbing clothes in hot, soapy wash water, or cooking in the cavernous fireplace his father had built for their humble cabin. And sometimes her pleasing voice had entertained them at night, while she sat in the wicker rocker, darning their socks and shirts. A little bit of singing along the way, makes most tasks bearable, she had always assured him with her sweet voice.

  He smiled at her memory and kept the pace with his work. Pulling wire was hard on a lot of men, but God had granted him muscles more than able to do the job. In fact, if it wasn’t for the heat, it would be a pleasant task for him today. Getting out in the fresh air, the sun on his back, and the breeze in his hair, always gave him time to think things through. Like the possible lack of wisdom concerning writing a letter to a strange woman. The thought was starting to pick at him like an errant straw of hay caught in his shirt sleeve.

  But somehow, the mail order bride seemed the best option. His tongue had always felt dried to dust or twisted in a knot whenever he was around an attractive woman. Or almost any woman, for that matter. Not that he was too overly concerned about the beauty of the woman he would finally choose to receive the letter he intended to write. A man that wanted nothing more than a pretty face could be setting himself up for ruin. No, what he needed was a farm woman, willing to work hard, and remain loyal to him at all times. And, if she just happened to be pretty, that would be all the more pleasant, he thought, heading for Danby and taking his canteen from the saddle.

  Cool liquid poured down his parched throat. He wiped his wet mouth on the sleeve of his cotton shirt. Shaking his head, he poured a small amount of the water over his hair and down his neck, shivering at the sudden burst of cold. The kerchief from around his neck did a good job of spreading the wetness around and cooling him down.

  He glanced at the sun and leaned against the big oak tree that Danby was grazing beneath. If he had a wife, now was about the time of day she would show up with his noon meal, he thought. And what would it be? Chicken, cornbread, maybe a sweet potato?

  Danby nickered and drew him from his daydreams. Ethan stared at the figure approaching on a horse. He blinked. Surely his silly daydream wasn’t coming true. It took a few moments to recognize Hallie.

  He reached for the reins as she drew beside him. Her long, brown braid swung behind her as her feet touched the ground. She was dressed in dark trousers, the cuffs stuffed into her leather boots. Her blue cotton shirt was worn and looked to have been well worked in. The old straw hat she was wearing was several sizes too big. She looked like a small child that had snatched her father’s hat and run away with it.

  Ethan grinned and took the hat from her head, his nose catching the scent of soap and lilacs. “Well good morning.”

  “It’s nearly noon,” she smiled and corrected. “And I’ve brought you something.” She untied a burlap bag from the saddle. “Not dinner,” she added immediately. “I thought you would already have something from home with you.”

  He shrugged. “I ate before I came out this morning.” But whatever she had in that tote would be more than welcome. His stomach had been complaining for the last hour.

  She set the bag on the ground and opened the top, taking out two lunch tins, shiny and bright, like the pails the children in town carried to school with them each day. “It’s just some biscuits and strawberry syrup. I picked the strawberries this morning.”

  Ethan settled down on his heels and helped her spread the bag on the ground as a makeshift picnic quilt. “Sounds good to me.” He opened the first tin for her and she removed the red-checked napkins peeking out from the top. She handed them to him, then removed the jar of still-warm syrup, setting it on the bag.

  She opened the second tin, and his eyes took in biscuits stacked to the top. The aroma of the tender short bread met his nose and he breathed in the scent with a great deal of satisfaction.

  “I’m afraid that they got a little brown while I was out at the well. Sorry about that,” she told him, watching as he opened the sweet syrup.

  “They look just fine to me,” he said, reaching for a large biscuit. He dressed it with the strawberry syrup and ate the thing in one bite. “I do believe that you’re the best cook I’ve ever met, Hallie Bolton,” he said, pouring a stream of the thick sticky liquid over his second biscuit.

  ***

  Hallie felt the warmth rush to her cheeks. It wasn’t like him to compliment her. In fact, it had taken almost two weeks of reading lessons before he would even look her in the eye and carry on a full conversation that contained any personal information, at all. He was good at one syllable answers and for a while she had despaired that he would never actually talk to her.

  “Thank you, very much, Ethan.” He probably had no idea how much the everyday banter that they exchanged was beginning to mean to her. Or how she would miss their conversations in the near future when his mail order bride arrived.

  Which was why she must bring up the subject that was on her mind.

  “So. . .what are you doing out here?” His question interrupted her thoughts.

  “Oh, well. . .I just thought you might like a little treat. And the syrup is best right after I make it.” Besides, it was so much nicer to be able to share its sweet goodness with someone else. But it wouldn’t be appropriate to voice that to him.

  She cleared her throat. “And, I thought maybe I could help you. You know, be your assistant.” Now where had that come from? It was hardly a cover for her real purpose of coming to talk with him. And it had been a bad idea, anyway, she knew, staring at the tools and roll of wire on the ground. Ethan was busy. And now, she had offered to help with something she knew nothing about.

  Ethan wiped his mouth with the napkin and shook his head. “I’m afraid you’re just a mite too small for this kind of work, Hallie. Takes a lot of muscle. Hatcher owes me a favor, or two. I’ll get him to help with anything I can’t manage.”

  Her mind felt blank. It had been a silly thing for her to offer. Of course, he was right. What had possessed her? “I see. Well, then I guess maybe I’d better be getting back.” She clamped the lid on the syrup and put it in one of the tins. “How about I leave this out here for you, in case you want more in a bit, and then you can bring it to me tonight?”

  “I can do that,” He nodded, as he stood and held a hand down to help her up.

  She stared at his broad fingers ready to wrap around her own. She swallowed hard and put her hand in his, letting him help her rise to her fe
et. He was always such a gentleman to her. If only she could mean something to him, other than his teacher.

  “Let me get Satin for you,” he turned and whistled for the brown horse.

  Hallie smiled. Even Satin had taken to him. “Thank you,” she said as the horse approached and she stepped toward the saddle. Strong fingers wrapped around her elbow and pulled her back toward him. “Eth-”

  “Everything is all right, Hallie, but I want you to step behind me. Now.” His voice was low and firm.

  He all but spun her around and pushed her toward the other side of the horse. He let go of her and his hand touched the pistol tucked in his waistband. He drew it out, but kept his arm behind his back.

  It was at that moment she spotted the man in the woods to their left. Her heart dropped. An Indian. Comanche, she guessed. “Ethan?” she whispered, fear running though her. When was the last time anyone around here had seen a Comanche? They had all moved on, gone from the area years ago.

  She refused to let her mind draw upon the stories of old. Women and children captured, men slaughtered. There had been so much hatred between the two races at that time. But the last ten years had been peaceful in this area of these hills, no signs of trouble.

  “It’s alright,” he answered her, not taking his eyes from the half-dressed man. “I’ve seen him around several times. He and his wife appear to be living away from their tribe. They have a little shack on back in the wooded area. I’m not sure if it’s on your property or mine.”

  “And you’ve never mentioned to me that a strange man is living on my property?” Her voice was quiet, but her words clipped with irritation. The least he could have done was let her know the situation.

  “They’re not a danger. They aren’t hurting anyone,” Ethan reasoned. “I don’t figure they’ll stay for long. Probably just passing through.”

  Hallie ducked her head beneath Satin’s nose and stared. It was hard to tell the man’s height at this distance, but she could see that his long hair, pulled away from his face, was almost pure gray. The narrow face, sharp and chiseled, held dark eyes that were trained in their direction. Buckskin britches, worn and shiny covered his legs, and his bare chest was thin and sunken. The rifle he carried in his hand was pointed down, but his eyes were set on Ethan‘s face.

  At last the man gave a slight nod and she watched as Ethan returned the gesture. The ancient man turned and disappeared into the wooded area behind him.

  Hallie let go of the breath she had been holding and leaned her face into Satin’s soft neck, breathing in the horse smell she had loved so well since childhood.

  “I really don’t think they mean any harm,” Ethan said as he shoved the pistol back into the waist of his pants. “I figure something happened between them and their people that drove them away.”

  “Do you think they need any help?” she asked. The man looked old. Were they able to care for themselves?

  An unfamiliar expression crossed his face as his eyes met hers. “I figure they’re doing all right for now. Plenty of wild game for meat, and berries, and greens in the woods to harvest.”

  Hallie cleared her throat. “I just meant. . .I mean, if one of them is sick or something. . .” Really, she wasn’t sure what she meant. But the thought of living among a strange people with no one to offer help just seemed hard to contemplate.

  His eyes narrowed as they searched her face. “Now you promise me you won’t go out there and find their shelter,” he said, putting his thumb under her chin as he tilted her face to look at him. “Because. . .well, because. . .”

  She swallowed hard as his words faded. Eyes, the color of a late December sky, locked with her own. Heartbeats thundered in her ears, and blocked the sounds of chirping birds and the wind that blew around them.

  She swallowed. “Ethan?” Her voice was a mere whisper.

  He dropped his hand and pulled away from her, his eyes concentrating on the horse. He cleared his throat. “Now you get on back home.” He paused before he turned to her. “And it might be best not to mention the old brave and his wife to anyone else.”

  She nodded as she took the reins from him. “Of course.”

  ***

  The next evening, it was quiet around Hallie’s table. Her mother’s old oil lamp hissed in the silence as Ethan concentrated on the book set before him. “I think I‘m ready,” he said, not bothering to look at her.

  In a way, his ignoring her was almost a relief after their near kiss the day before. If only the incident hadn’t happened. But it had, and now it would stand between them. It was better when it was just a friendship with no hint of romance. Now, he would feel uncomfortable around her. If only she could put her hand on his, tell him that it was all right, that they could go on being friends, laughing and talking when they were together.

  “Go ahead,” she encouraged, putting her finger under the first line. She would have to be the one to carry on as normal. Eventually, he would do the same.

  His voice was strong and gentle in the silence of the room. “The cattle stood near the pond. The. . .wa-water was clear and sweet.”

  “Very good.” His reading was improving every day. As soon as his handwriting was more practiced, he could do well without her. He could write the letter to his future bride himself. Had he picked her out from the newspaper advertisements, yet?

  The realization that he would soon do so soon pierced through her with a pain she hadn‘t anticipated. It was no use. She had denied it for weeks now, but there was no doubt that she was falling in love with Ethan Kane. And he had his heart set on another woman. A woman he‘d never met.

  Chapter 14

  Hallie smiled and refilled Ethan’s coffee cup. She had been right. After another week, their time together was back to normal. Even so, he had been rather quiet tonight, mostly picking at his food. He had even refused seconds on the pie. While buttermilk was his favorite, her peach pie was nothing to turn away. Something must be on his mind.

  “Is everything alright?” she asked, sitting across from him and reaching for her fork.

  An uneasy expression appeared on his face. “I’m not sure. Seems Claude Belts saw the old Indian a few days ago. Word is spreading around about it. Town folks are kind of upset. A lot of speculation as to why he’s in the area.”

  Hallie stopped with the utensil of food half-way to her mouth. “They’re not going to do anything, are they?”

  He shrugged and stared at her. “They’re having a rancher’s meeting tomorrow night at Bailey’s. Some folks are starting to say that maybe the old man is the reason for several cattle disappearing.”

  Hallie dropped her fork, sending the bite of pie splattering on her plate. “But that can’t be true! What would he do with their cattle? It‘s just him and his wife, isn‘t it?”

  Ethan picked up his cup and blew across the surface of the hot liquid. “I think folks are just looking for an excuse to confront them. Run them out.”

  Emotions rushed through her thoughts. “Do you think they would hurt them? They’re just an old couple.”

  He grimaced and took a sip of coffee. “A lot of older folks remember all the trouble back when it was dangerous to step outside your cabin door at any time of the day or night. They lost livestock, and worse, family members. The pain and misery of the past is still branded into them. All they see is a Comanche on the warpath.”

  Hallie took a deep breath. She could sympathize with their feelings. It was hard to let go of old hurts and bad memories. How many times had her mother‘s knitting needles clattered to the floor at a strange bump outside the door? Or a sudden intake of breath from her father when the wind sent a branch down on the house? It was a fear that folks had to work hard at shedding. Maybe it still lurked inside of most of them.

  And then, there was the war. She had been young during that terrible time, but losing her older brothers had made the memories stay with her. “We have to warn them. Get them to leave.” She gave him a pleading look.

  “I don
’t think anybody will do anything until after the meeting. I’m going to see how that goes, first.”

  “I’ll go, too,” she announced, reaching for his empty plate.

  “There’s no need for you to worry yourself over this, Hallie.”

  She sighed and turned to look at him. “I’m a rancher, too. I have every right to go to that meeting. I imagine that Lila Leonard will be there.” Lila had been ranching on her own for over ten years. She and her husband had started up the place way back before the war. When her husband was killed, she took charge and had made the place what it was today. The Double L Ranch was legendary in the area.

  He laughed. “You’re hardly Lila. . .uh, look, what I mean is that it’s safer for you to stay home,” he argued. “You know, just in case things get a little bit rough.”

  She stared at him. Did he think she was just some scared little rabbit of a woman, ready to jump into her hidey hole at the first sign of danger?. She clamped her jaw for a moment before she answered. “I said I’m going, Ethan. And don‘t worry, like everyone else at the meeting, I‘ll be armed when I arrive. If there’s trouble, I know how to stay out of the way.” And there was nothing he could do to stop her. What she did was her own business, not his. He might boss that new wife after he sent for her, but Hallie was his neighbor. She made her own decisions. He was not in charge of her.

  Ethan’s eyes met her stare. “You are one stubborn woman, Hallie Bolton.”

  “Determined,” she corrected, giving him her best smile.

  Chapter 15

  Hallie sat at a scratched, pine table near the back of the room. The boards were warped and scarred, as if many a coin had been rubbed across its surface. She rubbed her fingers across the rough wood as the ranchers arrived. She was unaccustomed to being in the saloon and it felt strange to know that she was supposed to be there. Mr. Bailey had closed the bar, making coffee the only beverage available. She had declined the offer.