A Bride for Frank, page 3
She’d just finished when Frank entered the stall.
“You really do know what you’re doing.”
“Why would we lie about that? At the prison we were responsible for the care of the warden’s and the guard’s horses. There were ten of us to take care of the twenty or so horses that were present at any time of the day.”
He stared at her; his blue eyes boring into her. “When did you find time for anything else besides work?”
She stood beside Daisy, her hand on the horse’s rear flank. “We were kept busy from sunup to sundown. We milked cows, gathered eggs, did laundry, cooked meals, and made butter. And if that wasn’t enough, then the warden had us clean his office and the guard’s quarters. Trust me, we didn’t have time to do anything but work. It was a prison, after all.”
Frank patted Daisy’s flank. “That explains why you are all so thin. But don’t worry, we don’t have that much for you to do. With all five of you here, you should have plenty of time to have some fun, too.”
She walked toward him out of the stall. “That sounds nice, but I don’t have any idea what to do with myself if I don’t have work to do.”
“You could read or knit or play with Ross’s girls or the kittens or go riding or—”
She laughed. “Stop, I get it. There are lots of things for me to do.” She rested a finger on her chin. “Hmm. It might be nice to read. That’s not something there was much time for in prison. I didn’t know Ross had children.”
Frank cocked a brow and then walked out of the stall. “Yes, he has two girls. Jenny, age five and Susie, who is almost three. I think you’re trying to distract me. From the sounds of it, you were lucky to get any sleep at all.”
She shrugged and followed him out, then closed the gate to the stall. “Sometimes we didn’t, but it was a life and we did what we needed to survive. For some of us, it was a better life than what we had outside the prison.” It was better for me. I didn’t get beat up, my ribs finally had time to heal completely and I ate every day.
He closed the space between them and turned her to face him with just a finger on her jaw. “Was that the case for you, Maisie? Was prison better than what you left behind?”
She couldn’t lie. Something about him made her want to always tell the truth. She nodded and looked down, her stomach turning over and her hands shaking as she remembered. “Yes. At least, there I was mostly safe. Occasionally, a male prisoner would think he could do what he wanted. My friends, now my sisters-in-law, made sure he never tried it again.”
With that same finger, he lifted her chin. “It will never be like that. l will never hurt you or lay a hand on you, especially in anger. Do you believe me?”
Maisie pulled her chin away and gave him a hard stare. “I don’t know you. How can you ask me to believe you’re different from every man I’ve ever known?”
His eyes narrowed, he moved backward like she’d slapped him. Then he reached out and took both her hands in his. “Give me a chance, Maisie. Don’t paint me with the same brush you have the other men in your life. I’m not like them and I want you to see that.”
She pulled back her hands and stiffened her spine. “We’ll see. I suppose you’ll want to consummate the marriage tonight?” She watched the other couples leave. Some holding hands, some walking with their hands in their pockets or wrapped around their waists.
Frank shook his head. “I don’t think so. Don’t get me wrong, I think you are a beautiful and desirable woman. But I don’t want you to think I’m only being nice because I want to bed you.”
Her eyes widened, and she gripped the top of the gate for support. “You don’t want to bed me?”
He shoved his thumbs into his front pockets and sighed. “Of course, I want to bed you. Do I look like an idiot? What I don’t want is to do so before you’re ready to allow me to.”
She blinked several times, not believing her ears. “Until I’m ready? You won’t force me?”
His brows formed dark slashes above his eyes. “God, no. I’m not a beast. I’m a man, and I can wait until you’re comfortable with the idea.”
Maisie smiled and her body relaxed. “Thank you. I’ve never had a choice before. I really appreciate being given one.”
Frank smiled back. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry for the way you were treated before. It wasn’t right. It’s never right to force a woman, whether or not you’re married.”
Her mouth formed a thin line and her hands closed into fists. “My husband didn’t believe as you do.”
“He was a fool and a bastard. Forgive my language, but I can think of no other word for someone like him.” He closed the gate to the stall, took Maisie’s hand and tucked it in the crook of his elbow, then picked up her carpetbag with his other hand. “Let’s join the others in the house where you can meet Agatha. She’s the force who keeps this ranch running. Our cook and housekeeper, when she gets the time. Cooking for this crew usually keeps her pretty busy. She’ll appreciate the help of you ladies.”
They walked out toward the house. She was glad the chickens weren’t allowed to run free. It would make it easier gathering the eggs.
“Do you raise pigs? I don’t smell them?”
Frank nodded and pointed back toward the barn. “We don’t keep them near the house. The stench is too much, so they are on the other side of that small hill behind the barn.
She didn’t know if she should tell him she hated pigs or not. What if she was expected to feed them? She’d tell him then that she’d had an incident when she was a girl. She’d fallen in the pig pen and barely made it out before the sow attacked her. If her father hadn’t jumped in and practically thrown her out, she wouldn’t have made it. Pigs were mean.
Maisie hoped her life would remain this nice, but she knew even if it did, she couldn’t stay. She had to find that mine. She had to have her independence and not have to depend on any man, not even one as kind as Frank seemed to be.
Chapter Three
Maisie waited her turn to greet Agatha. She looked around and found she liked the set up of the kitchen. A large, six-burner wood stove took up most of one wall. It was situated in the middle giving room to open the doors on the four-door icebox. The icebox and the stove were almost as big as the ones at the prison.
On the other side of the stove were two doors. Maisie assumed one was to the pantry and the other, if she had to guess, could be to Agatha’s bedroom
Agatha was older, probably mid-fifties. She had a body made for hugs and wore a red apron with sunflowers on it over a green calico dress.
She watched the other women introduce themselves until it was her turn. “Hi, I’m Maisie and I married Frank. My twin sister, oh, you probably knew that, anyway, she’s Lottie, and she married Brodie.”
Maisie turned as Lottie waved over her shoulder from behind her.
Ivy stepped up next. “Hi, I’m Ivy. I’m married to Tucker.”
After all of the women had been introduced to Agatha, she smiled wider. “Pleased as punch to meet all you girls. I’m so glad the boys finally got married.” She pointed at the table, which was set for ten people, and looked up at Ross. “Why don’t you and the boys get the ladies settled into your rooms? I’ll have lunch on the table in about ten minutes.”
“Sounds good,” said Ross.
Ross and Fiona left the kitchen first.
Followed by Tucker and Ivy.
Frank took Maisie’s hand with one of his and picked up her carpetbag with the other. “Come on, I’ll show you the house.” He walked out of the kitchen and down a hall, pointing to a room on the right side. “This is Ross and Fiona’s bedroom. It used to be our parents’, but when they passed, Ross took it over.”
The hall opened into the living room. The front door was on her right and the stairs on her left. Bookshelves covered one long wall and were mostly full. Maisie would love to get a look at all those titles. She’d never seen so many books.
“This is the living room. As you can tell from the bookshelves we like to read. With seven of us kids, we have two sisters, dMom and Dad decided reading was a cheap pastime because they could buy one book and have all of us read it. Plus,” he grinned, “we might learn something, too.”
The short wall opposite the hall had a stone fireplace. Over the mantle was a portrait of an older woman with graying hair and a man who looked a lot like Frank except his brown hair was streaked with silver at the temple. Now, Maisie had a good idea what Frank would look like in thirty years or so.
The wall on the same side as the front door was filled with windows and provided plenty of light for reading during the day if there was time. The living room was big with two sofas, four Queen Anne chairs and two rocking chairs in front of the fireplace.
“How old are you, Frank?” She continued to stare at the painting for a moment before gazing back at him.
“I’m thirty-two.” He cocked a brow. “How about you?”
Brodie and Lottie stopped by them. “Yes, Maisie, you got one of the old men. Not a young stallion like me.”
Maisie’s eyebrows lifted and she choked on a laugh.
The younger couple laughed and then turned and climbed the stairs.
Smiling at Lottie and Brodie, she turned back to Frank. “I’m twenty-seven.” She pointed at the painting. “When was this portrait painted?”
“Three years ago, on their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. Why?”
“I just wondered how old you would be when you had silver hair like your dad.” She turned and grinned at him. Then reached up and plucked a gray hair from his head.
“Ow. That hurt.” He rubbed his head.
She laughed. “Did not, you big baby.”
He chuckled. “I figured I might get some sympathy.”
“Not from me.” She smiled, but she wasn’t kidding. How can I even pretend sympathy over some silly thing such as plucking a hair, after what I went through? No one ever had any sympathy for me, except Lottie, but even then, she never knew the full extent. She only saw the occasional black eye or fat lip when Donald got carried away. Never the black-and-blue marks that covered my hips and legs or my torso. She never knew how many cracked ribs I had or saw the chunks of hair he pulled from my head, dragging me from the living room to the bedroom.
She shook her head to rid herself of the memories. They were just another reason she had to find that mine. She hoped Donald’s map was accurate and to a real mine, but she did have her doubts. If it had been producing gold, wouldn’t he have lived more lavishly and spent it? Maybe he did on booze and other women. She didn’t care about either as long as he stayed away from her. But he always came back to her. Maybe the other women wouldn’t let him treat them like he did her. She didn’t know or care.
Frank touched her shoulder. “Maisie? Are you all right?”
“What?” She turned toward him. “Oh, yes, I’m fine. Lottie and I lost our parents about ten years ago, right after I married. Donald refused to let Lottie live with us, so she worked as a maid in the house of Mr. Haynes, the bank president. His wife was too good to do housework. Didn’t want to get her soft, lily-white hands dirty.” She cocked her head to the side and waved a hand in front of her like she was holding a cup of tea…with her pinkie sticking out. Then she shrugged. “I’m sorry, I’m babbling. Nerves I guess.”
Clayton and Gwen passed by them and went upstairs.
Frank raised an eyebrow. “Did Lottie use her knowledge of Mr. Haynes to help you all rob the bank?”
Maisie narrowed her eyes, wondering how honest she should be. Again, she was hit with the feeling that she couldn’t lie. “In a way. She knew he took his lunch from home every day. She also knew that he left the bank for lunch every day telling everyone he was going home for lunch because a young man who was sweet on her worked at the bank and told her so. But he never came home. One day she was out shopping for the Haynes cook and happened to catch him coming out of the widow Murphy’s house at lunchtime.”
“I know Eugenia Murphy. Fine looking woman. So sad how her husband died. Had a heart attack on their wedding night.”
Maisie barked out a laugh. “And everyone believes that, but she poisoned him. She’d been having an affair with the banker for months, maybe years. She married Angus Murphy to get his house and money. That’s all.”
He furrowed his brows and slowly shook his head. “Murder is a pretty serious charge.”
“It is. I only know what Lottie overheard when the widow Murphy paid a visit while Mrs. Haynes was gone to St. Louis to visit her mother. She told Mr. Haynes that she’d taken care of the old man, now it was his turn.”
His eyes widened. “His turn? What did that mean? Surely not—”
She rolled her eyes and tilted her head to the side. “What do you think she meant?”
His eyes narrowed. “She wanted him to kill his wife. But he never did it. Mrs. Haynes is still alive.”
Maisie shrugged. “There was nothing we could do about it, even if he had, because we had no proof. It was just hearsay as far as the sheriff was concerned. And I guess it all turned out all right.”
He took a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess it did. Come on, let’s go upstairs.” He grabbed her hand with his free one and headed up. At the top of the stairs was a long hall with four doors down each side. Stopping before the second one on the left, he opened the door. “It’s not much but it’s home, for now. We’re all planning on building our own houses and leaving this one to Ross and Fiona. How many bedrooms would you like?”
She lifted her brows. “You’re asking me?” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I’ve never been asked for my opinion on anything.” She swallowed hard and used the handkerchief in her sleeve to dab at the corners of her eyes. “I’d like at least four bedrooms upstairs and one on the first floor for us. Maybe with a small room attached for a baby before it’s old enough to go upstairs.”
Frank smiled. “Of course, I’ll ask you. It’s your house, too.”
Maisie nodded, grinning. “Thank you. You have no idea how much you asking means to me.”
He squeezed her hand. “So, what do you think of our temporary home?”
She looked around the room. It was simple, with a bed, dresser and chest of drawers. A nightstand stood on either side of the bed and a rocker in the corner between the bed and the dresser. A lamp was on the side of the dresser next to the rocker, which would give light to read by at night, and a window between the chair and the bed gave enough light to read by during the day.
She placed her hands on her hips. “I think it’s lovely and much larger than I expected.”
He set her carpetbag on the bed. “Mom made sure all the bedrooms were large enough to give us reading room. That’s part of the reason the house is so big. I’ve cleaned out a drawer in both the dresser and the chest plus made room in the closet.”
She smiled. “I think I would have liked your mother very much.”
He relaxed and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “I’m sure you would have. She was a special lady. Everyone who knew her loved her.”
Maisie walked to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thank you.” His shirt was smooth under her fingers and he smelled of sandalwood, her favorite scent for a man.
He brought his arms up and embraced her. “You’re welcome.”
She stepped back, out of his arms. “Do you want me to unpack now, or later?”
“Later, if you don’t mind. Agatha has lunch ready. I can smell it and I’m hungry.”
She looked at the carpetbag on the bed and then at him. “Sounds good to me, I’m hungry, too.”
They went down to the kitchen. Brodie, Lottie, Clay, Gwen, Tucker and Ivy were all at the table. They just needed Ross and Fiona before they could start eating.
Agatha had prepared a savory stew, fresh biscuits with butter, roast pork, mashed potatoes and gravy, too.
It looked like Christmas dinner to Maisie, and the smell of the roast pork was like heaven. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had pork other than bacon on Christmas morning.
“I’ll go get them,” said Brodie as he stood.
A few minutes later, the three of them returned.
“There you are,” said Frank. “Let’s eat.”
Food began to be passed and the meal eaten. When Maisie took her first bite of the pork, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. The meat was so tender, it melted in her mouth. And there was honey for the biscuits. She looked down the table at her sisters and saw the same satisfied expressions on their faces as she was sure was on hers. Their eyes were closed and they all had smiles of absolute bliss.
When everyone was done, Maisie stood and took her plate to the sink. “We’ll do the dishes, Agatha. You’ve done enough for today just preparing that wonderful feast for us. You’ll need to help us with dinner, though. We don’t know what you have planned or the proportions.”
Agatha stood and started gathering plates and bowls. “Don’t you worry, sweetie. We’ll get it started when these men get back to their chores.”
“We can take a hint,” said Frank. “We’re leaving. Come on, brothers. We do have chores to be done.”
Each man turned to his wife for a kiss.
Brodie got one.
Clayton did not.
Neither did Ross.
Ivy let Tucker kiss her cheek.
Frank gazed at Maisie. “May I kiss you?”
After looking at each of her sisters, she nodded. “Okay.”
He took her face between his palms and lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was soft, gentle and short.
Maisie had just started to respond when it was already over.
Frank winked at her and grinned as he headed outside.
The dishes were done in no time. Fiona washed, Maisie rinsed and the other three women dried and put them away.
Once they were done, the brides each got a cup of coffee and sat at the table with Agatha.
Maisie stared at the dark brown liquid in her cup. She looked up at Agatha. “We’d like to know what chores we should be prepared for. We know about milking the cows and gathering the eggs, but, for instance, what will we prepare for dinner and how do you know how much?”
