The Barefoot Bride Read online

  “I trust you won't need rescuing anytime soon, little one,” Ethan replied with a grin.

  “Well, of course not,” Patch retorted, pulling herself from his side. “You know I can take care of myself.”

  “Of course you can,” Ethan agreed. “But there are some chickens out behind the house that can't. So how about spreading some feed for them?”

  Patch grimaced. “Dang, I forgot. Sorry, Ethan. I'll do it right away.”

  Seth stared after his daughter, marveling at how quickly she had obeyed Ethan, and he fought another stab of jealousy.

  “Anybody seriously hurt in the raid?” Ethan asked.

  “A bullet in one miner's arm and in another's leg.”

  “You'd think the stage line would have heard enough about the renegade Indians around here to put another shotgun rider or two on board,” Ethan said.

  “There's an easier solution to the problem/’ Seth said.

  “Which is?”

  “Put Drake Bassett out of the illegal whiskey-selling business. If there's none of that coffin varnish available to buy, the Indians won't have any use for the gold they're stealing. And the raids on the stage will stop.”

  Drake Bassett owned the Medicine Bow Saloon, but he spent most of his time at his office in one of the several warehouses he owned along the levee. To all appearances, he was an honest businessman. It was through Dora Deveraux that Seth had learned about Drake's connection to the illegal whiskey-selling operation that was causing so much trouble.

  “Unfortunately, to get to Bassett, you have to go through Pike Hardesty,” Ethan pointed out.

  There was a moment when neither man said anything. They were both thinking of the man Ethan had named. A gunfighter and a bully, Pike Hardesty was mean as a rattlesnake on a hot skillet. Thanks to Pike, there was no longer any law in Fort Benton to speak of. He had shot the sheriff in a supposedly fair fight eight months ago. Now the only restraint on Pike's viciousness was Drake Bassett, a man without morals himself.

  “I could take care of Pike,” Ethan said.

  “No.”

  “It would solve a lot of problems.”

  “No,” Seth repeated. “The Masked Marauder seems to have everything well in hand. If the Blackfeet are unsuccessful in their raids, they won't have any gold. And without gold they won't be able to buy that tarantula juice Bassett is pawning off as whiskey.”

  They had wandered back over to the corral that held the few mustangs that remained to be gentled and delivered to the army at Fort Shaw.

  Ethan braced his boot on the bottom rail of the corral and said, “I notice Patch is sporting another black eye.”

  Seth's gray eyes turned bleak. “I'm at my wit's end, Ethan. I've tried everything I can think of to keep her from fighting. I don't know what else to do.”

  “You could tell her the truth,” Ethan said in a quiet voice.

  Seth faced the younger man. Ethan had sandy brown hair that had bleached in the sun, green eyes above a straight nose, and a wide, full mouth. He should have looked as young as his twenty-five years. But there were hard edges to Ethan's face; lines bracketed his mouth, and those piercing green eyes had seen sorrow and disillusion and disappointment. Ethan was nearly as tall as Seth, but Ethan's shoulders weren't quite so broad, and he was lean and wiry, where Seth was all muscle and sinew.

  Seth stuck his hands in his pockets. “You know I can't tell her anything,” he said. “She wouldn't understand.”

  “I think you underestimate Patch,” Ethan countered. “She's got a good head on her shoulders. She could handle it.”

  “No,” Seth said. “She's got enough worries as it is, without adding any more. In fact, she's got way too heavy a burden for any kid to carry. She needs a mother, Ethan,” Seth admitted with a sigh.

  “That would mean you'd have to take a wife,” Ethan said. “After Annarose … I didn't think you wanted to marry again.”

  “I don't,” Seth said flatly. When Annarose died, he had felt grief so strong it had made him want to die too. For a while he had tried very hard to get himself killed. Then Ethan had come along and convinced him he had to live for his daughter's sake. Seth had been forced to build a stone wall around his heart to protect himself from the pain of living without Annarose. Over the years, his vivid memories of her had forced him to keep the wall strong. There was no way feelings of love for anyone besides his daughter could breach that barrier.

  Nonetheless, Seth told Ethan, “I may not want to marry, but I think I need a wife—for Patch's sake.”

  “All right. Let's say Patch needs a mother. Let's say you need a wife. Where do you propose to find a woman to fill that role?” Ethan asked.

  “I've decided to advertise for a mail-order bride in the St. Louis papers,” Seth answered.

  Ethan turned to stare at his friend. “You're joking.”

  “I'm perfectly serious. Patch needs the influence of a woman who can turn her into a young lady.”

  “Is that really fair to a woman, to marry her just so she can be a mother to your daughter?”

  “I'd be giving her a home, feeding her, and clothing her. That sounds like a pretty fair trade to me,” Seth argued. “My face wouldn't be so bad to stare at across the breakfast table.” He cocked a brow and said, “A woman could do a lot worse.”

  Ethan smiled crookedly. “Yeah, I suppose so. What about … the personal side of things.”

  There was a pause before Seth answered, Tve got Dora. I don't need a wife for that.” He took off his hat and thrust a hand through his hair in a gesture that betrayed his uncertain feelings about what he was contemplating.

  “If you're bound and determined on this course, I have a suggestion,” Ethan said. He waited for Seth to nod before he continued, “Put your advertisement in the papers back east.”

  Ethan didn't allow Seth to voice an objection, just kept right on talking. “Think about it,” he urged. “You're a lot more likely to get a ‘lady’ if you advertise where there are a lot of them. By the time a woman's spent any time at all in St. Louis, the ‘lady’ gets ironed right out of her. You ought to put an ad in the Boston and New York and Philadelphia papers.”

  Seth pursed his lips in thought, then stroked his chin, feeling the two days’ growth of whiskers. Having a “lady” for a wife was going to mean a lot of changes for him too. He wouldn't be marrying at all if it weren't for Patch. But for his daughter, he would make any sacrifice.

  “All right,” Seth agreed gruffly. “I'll take your advice. But just in case no one wants to travel that far, I'm going to put an ad in the St. Louis paper as well.”

  He was distracted by the sound of chickens squawking noisily. “What the devil?”

  “Pa! Ethan!” Patch shouted. “Come quick!”

  The two men raced toward the frantic cry that had come from behind the house. Ethan was slowed by his gait. Seth rounded the corner ahead of him, all his senses alert, ready to protect and defend his daughter. He stumbled to a halt when he saw her. Patch stood before him covered with a dusting of chicken feathers and grinning from ear to ear. Dangling by the neck in her outstretched hands was the obvious reason for the ruckus in the henhouse.

  “I caught him, Pa!” she crowed with glee. “The raccoon that's been stealing our eggs! You can see he's still just a baby. Can I keep him, Pa? Can I?”

  Seth didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Would anyone be able to turn his darling, adorable hoyden into a young lady? He opened his mouth to say yes to keeping the raccoon and snapped it shut again. Whoever heard of a young lady with a pet raccoon But he didn't have a wife yet, and he didn't have the heart to disappoint his daughter. “Sure,” he agreed with a grin. “If you keep him fed, maybe I'll be able to have eggs for breakfast again.”

  “Oh, thank you, Pa!” Patch cried. “I'll just take him inside now and make him a bed.”

  Seth lifted a hand to say a raccoon didn't belong in the house, but she was gone before he could speak. He grimaced. Besides, the inside of the house
, unfortunately, was eminently fit for raccoons. In that instant, whatever reservations he'd had about marrying simply to have a mother for Patch were put to rest.

  At the same moment Seth reached that resolve, Ethan rounded the corner of the house and joined him.

  “I saw the raccoon,” Ethan said with a grin. “Looks like Patch has a new pet to add to her collection.”

  “At least for a while,” Seth said.

  “Surely you aren't going to make her get rid of it,” Ethan protested. “Did you see her face? She's already in love with the poor thing.”

  “I'm not going to do anything,” Seth said. “But I can't speak for the woman who'll be my wife.” Seth's eyes turned flinty. But as he began mentally composing the advertisement for a mail-order bride, he added the words: “Must like animals.”

  “What are you doing, Mama?”

  “I'm writing a letter.”

  “To Da?”

  “No, sweetheart. Da is in heaven. This is a letter to a man in Montana named Seth Ken-drick.” Molly Gallagher set down her pen and pulled her four-year-old daughter into her lap. Nessie had lost the plump limbs and cherubic face common to all babies and was showing signs of the person she would become. Her brown eyes were still huge, but her nose had lengthened and straightened. Round cheeks had thinned to reveal the same strong Irish bones Molly possessed and a pair of charming dimples. Her chin was already a bit pointed, like her da's had been.

  The little girl reached for the half-finished letter on the desk. She held it out in front of her with both hands, as though she could read the slanted script. “What does it say, Mama?”

  “I'm telling Mr. Kendrick a little bit about myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he wants to marry me.”

  “Why?”

  Molly thought for a moment. What could compel a man to be willing to marry a woman sight unseen? He had given reasons; these she gave to Nessie. “He says he needs a lady to keep house for him and a nurse to help him do his work. He's a doctor, you see.”

  “You nursed Aunt Hattie.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “But Aunt Hattie went to heaven. Like Da.”

  Molly sighed. “Yes, darling. Just like Da.” It was the death of James's aunt that had caused the crisis in which she now found herself.

  Molly had come to live with Aunt Hattie when she'd received word that her husband's whaling ship had been crushed in the northern ice and been sunk with all hands. James had already been gone to sea for nearly two years, and Molly had been living on the expectation of his share of the whaling catch. When word came that her husband had drowned, the mortgage holder had given her a week to vacate the home in which she lived with Nessie and her ten-year-old son, Whit.

  Aunt Hattie's grand old New Bedford cottage, with its ladder leading through a trap door in the roof to the widow's walk, had been a refuge in a very bad storm. Molly had spent hours pacing the rectangular railed platform, coming to terms with her grief. She had looked out over the lonely sea and wondered … and wished … and worried.

  Now, barely a year later, Aunt Hattie was dead, and James's cousin Rupert had inherited everything. Just as the crocuses were blooming, Rupert had written to say he had sold Aunt Hattie's house. Molly and her children now had to vacate the cottage by the first of June.

  Cousin Rupert hadn't left her totally without recourse. He had offered her the opportunity to move in and be a companion to his mother in a small house on the outskirts of New Bedford. Living as Sadie Gallagher's companion would be a step up from the poorhouse, but it was not a choice Molly would have made for herself.

  Molly hadn't minded nursing Aunt Hattie because she had truly loved the old woman. But Rupert's mother was another matter altogether. Sadie Gallagher was the worst sort of harridan, and the old woman didn't much care for children.

  Thus, Rupert's ultimatum had left Molly feeling panic-stricken. James had been a good whaler, and a wonderful husband and father. But two of his three whaling ships had been sunk by the rebel cruiser Alabama during the war. That financial loss had been compounded by the increasing use of fuel substitutes for whale oil, causing a drop in the price of each hard-won barrel. They had continued to live well, but it had taken a toll on their savings. When Aunt Hattie died, Molly had finally realized how very little she had been left with at James's death.

  Alone, she would have managed somehow. But Whit was ten, and already growing tall like James. His wrists and ankles seemed to sprout from his clothes. As for Nessie, Molly dreaded the thought of her four-year-old being regularly hushed to accommodate a crotchety old woman.

  So on the day Molly got Rupert's letter, the words BRIDE WANTED had fairly leaped at her from the month-old Boston newspaper. She had carefully unwrapped the dampened paper from around the codfish she had bought for supper and read the rest. The ad was short and to the point.

  BRIDE WANTED. Thirty-five-year-old doctor seeks educated woman to work as nurse and manage household. Must be lady of good character. Also must like animals. Reply to S.K. General Delivery Fort Benton, Montana.

  It had taken her a while to find Fort Ben-ton on the atlas she had used to track James's whaling adventures. It seemed like the other side of the world. Because she'd had nothing to lose, Molly had immediately sat down to compose a letter to the mysterious S.K. And because she didn't think it would ever come to anything, she hadn't mentioned the existence of Whit and Nessie.

  Molly had been sure the doctor would have so many replies that hers would be lost in the confusion. She had been surprised, if not pleased, when he responded.

  Dear Miss Gallagher,

  I'm a country doctor and live a very simple life. It's good to hear you have nursing experience. That will be important here, where a real nurse is desperately needed. My home is a sturdy pine structure suited to the harsh elements. It is set along a creek bordered by cottonwoods.

  Out here, the sky is endless and the prairies roll on until they meet the mountains to the south. No one who sees this part of Montana can deny its beauty.

  However, it's frigid in winter, scorching in summer, and the wind almost always blows.

  It can be a lonely place.

  You asked me to say a bit about myself. I try to be patient and understand the other fellow's point of view. Mostly, I succeed.

  I can offer you my name and my protection. That may not sound like much. But out here, where there isn't much law and order, it's a lot.

  Your servant,

  Seth Kendrick

  Molly had been disappointed that there wasn't a single word in the letter describing his appearance. She tried to imagine any man being as handsome as James and failed. But then, she wouldn't be marrying the mysterious S.K. for his good looks.

  She felt a little guilty that her “nursing experience” amounted to no more than putting a cool cloth on Aunt Hattie's brow until she died of old age. But she didn't correct Seth Kendrick's mistaken impression when she wrote to him a second time. Instead, she explained that she was a widow, that she had loved James with her whole heart and soul, and that she didn't expect to find love in a second marriage. Molly also wrote that Montana sounded beautiful and that someday she would love to see it. For reasons she didn't wish to examine too closely, Molly still made no mention of Whit or Nessie.

  Seth Kendrick's second letter intrigued her.

  Dear Mrs. Gallagher,

  I must say I was relieved to read from your most recent letter that you do not expect love as part of the bargain. I, too, am a widower, so I can very much understand your feelings. My heart isn't free either. Will you marry me?

  Your servant,

  Seth Kendrick

  P. S. Directions to Fort Benton are enclosed.

  Molly had been composing her response to the Montana doctor's proposal when Nessie interrupted her. She still hadn't made up her mind what her answer would be. Over the months they had corresponded, the spring sun had done its work, turning New Bedford into a warm place full of c
olor. Yellow lilies and orange poppies. Buttercups and violets. Always, everywhere, defiant clumps of dandelions. The wind-tossed sea provided brilliant blues and greens or stormy grays, depending on the weather. How could she even think of leaving it all behind? But the June day when she would be forced to leave Aunt Hattie's cottage was inexorably coming. She must move somewhere—and soon.

  Molly wished she were daring enough to accept Doctor Kendrick's offer and go all the way to Montana to become his wife. But she had never been beyond the boundaries of Massachusetts in her life. She hadn't the courage to go haring off halfway across the country on a whim.

  Maybe that was why she had fallen in love with a rough-and-tumble whaling man like James. Molly had seen the world through her husband's eyes as he sailed the seas. She had vicariously lived his adventures in the marvelous ports where his whaling vessel called. It had always been enough for her. But now James was dead. Any adventures she had in the future would have to be her own.

  “Are we going to Montana?”

  Nessie's question snapped Molly from her reverie and forced her to focus on the decision she knew must be made. She wanted to throw caution to the winds and say yes. But the words just wouldn't come. “I don't think so, Nessie.”

  “Good,” Nessie said. “I don't want to go away. If we go away, Da won't know where we are. He won't be able to find us when he comes home.”

  Molly hugged her daughter tight. If she said nothing, Nessie would eventually realize that her father wasn't ever coming back. But that seemed more cruel than forcing Nessie, even as young as she was, to face the truth. So Molly said, “Do you remember how I explained that Da died and went to heaven?”

  “Yes.”

  “Heaven is a wonderful place, Nessie, but when you go there, you can't ever come back. But Da can see us, and no matter where we go, he'll know where we are. And he'll watch over us from above.”