Lauri Robinson - Mail-Order Brides Of Oak Grove

“I think I need two spoonsful,” Rex said. “I’m in pretty bad shape still.”

He certainly was. She’d changed the bandage on his leg earlier. Now was not the time to be stingy or think of profits, considering how badly Rex needed the tonic, so she filled another spoonful and fed it to him. Then, while replacing the cork in the small bottle, she said, “You can have some more in a little bit, before you go to sleep for the night.”

“Can I just suck on the spoon?” Rex asked.

She couldn’t help but giggle. The man’s face might be wrinkled and his hair gray, but he put her in mind of a little boy the way he was looking up at her. She handed him the spoon. “Of course.”

“What are you feeding him?”

Tingles shot up her spine. She’d momentarily forgotten the man who stood in the doorway—the one she’d lied to about going to Denver. The one whose lap she’d fallen into. No matter how hard she tried, that memory wouldn’t leave her alone.

“The best tonic I’ve ever tasted,” Rex said.

“Tonic?”

She turned around and held up the bottle as the man walked closer. “Yes. McCary’s Finest Recipe Tonic.”

Beneath a set of dark brows that were frowning, his brown eyes bore so deeply her hand shook as he took the bottle from her. “McCary? That’s your name? You made this?”

“Yes, that is my name. Mary McCary, and yes, I made it.”

He pulled out the cork and smelled the contents. His frown increased as he poured a small amount onto the tip of one finger and then stuck it in his mouth.

“Good stuff, isn’t it?” Rex asked.

Steve’s face filled with something she’d seen before. Disgust. And that turned her stomach hard.

“It’s snake oil,” he said while sticking the cork back in the bottle.

She snatched the bottle out of his hand. “Only ignorant people call it that.”

His hard stare never faltered as he said, “Only ignorant people think alcohol will cure what ails them.”

“It sure took away my pain,” Rex said. “And tastes a whole lot better than the stuff the doc left.”

“Because you’re drunk.”

“He is not.” Mary set the bottle on the table. “This tonic is an old family recipe and has been proven medicinal many times over.” Trying to convince men of that was next to impossible. Because doctors refused to prescribe it. That was only because it cured their patients. Her family had been run out of town by more than one doctor over the years. She drew a deep breath and asked, “Are you interested in hiring me as a cook or not?” Nodding toward the doorway behind him, she added, “If not, Brett and I need to head out before the sun sets.”

“Ya,” Brett said from the doorway.

Steve’s jaw twitched but he didn’t glance over his shoulder, just kept staring at her.

“I thought you already hired her,” Rex said. “I can’t cook for the boys, not in my condition.”

“I’ll hire you,” Brett said from the doorway.

This time Steve gave Brett a glare. “You don’t need a cook.”

“Ya, I do.” Brett looked her way. “I’ll pay you twenty dollars a month.”

Mary bit down on her bottom lip. She’d have to sell an entire batch of tonic to make twenty dollars.

“Cooks don’t make twenty dollars a month,” Steve said.

“You pay me thirty,” Rex said. “Same you pay the cowboys.”

The way Steve scowled at Rex tickled Mary’s insides. Thirty dollars would be more money than she’d ever made in a month. More than Da had made.

“I can’t pay her what I pay the boys,” he said.

“Sure you can,” Rex answered. “The boys won’t mind.”

“You’re drunk,” he snapped.

“I’m not,” Brett said. “I’ll pay her thirty-five.”

Steve threw his arms in the air as he spun around. “This isn’t an auction.”

So much excitement danced inside her, Mary’s toes were tapping inside her shoes. Thirty-five dollars would go a long way in getting her and Maggie westward. It took her a moment to remember Brett had said he’d put money toward bringing the brides to Oak Grove, but had left the train when the girls got off, figuring he’d get to know them later when it wasn’t so crowded. But he wanted one. A bride. And she wasn’t about to become that.

However, she could take advantage of the situation. Stepping forward, she put herself between Steve and Brett who were in a staredown. At this moment, they looked to be about the same in size and temperament. If push came to shove, either one had a good chance of winning. But this win would be hers.

“No, it’s not an auction,” she said, “but it is a contest, and I know how we can settle it fair and square.”

“How?” all three men in the room asked at the same time.

Keeping her smile well-hidden, she said, “Rex, you get some rest now. You other two follow me.”

Once in the kitchen, she cleared a section of the table and then gathered three tin cups of manageable size and the cork from the vanilla bottle she’d used to make the caramel sauce. “Sit down, gentlemen.”

Casting each other stern stares, they sat.

Positioning the cups on the table, she said, “Whoever guesses which cup this cork is beneath will be the winner, and that person will agree to pay me forty dollars for a month of cooking.”

“Thirty-five,” Steve said.

She was about to agree when Brett said, “Forty.”

Steve shook his head, and for a moment her breath stalled. She feared she’d gone too far, until he blew out a long sigh.

“Fine,” he said, “forty, but that includes laundry and housekeeping.”

“All right,” she said quickly before Brett could say more. “Forty dollars for cooking, laundry and housekeeping for one month. Now watch the cork.” With great show, she put it under one of the cups and then started shuffling them around each other. After switching her hands back and forth over the moving cups several times, she lined them in a row. The odds hit her then. They were much more in her favor when only one person was guessing. She should have thought of that earlier.

It was too late now. Besides, she was fairly confident neither of them would pick the right cup. “Brett, you can pick first,” she said.

“Ya, I vill.” He stared at the cups while rubbing a hand over his chin.

After an extended length of time, Steve said, “Pick one, will you?”

“I vill,” Brett said. “Let me think.”

After another length of time, the rancher huffed out a breath, “Oh, for—”

“That one,” Brett said.

Having started to worry, Mary let out a sigh and lifted the cup to reveal the empty space.

“Who wins if Steve doesn’t pick the right one?” Brett asked.

She really hadn’t thought this through. Usually she didn’t want the cork found. “I guess we’ll try it a second time,” Mary said.

“No, we won’t. It’s under this one.”

The rancher picked up the cup, revealing the cork. The glint in his dark eyes had Mary’s insides quaking, and she wondered if she’d just won or lost.

Chapter Four

As Steve watched Brett drive away the thrill of winning seeped out of him like a bucket that had sat in the sun too long. Slowly, he turned to face the house. What the hell had he just done? Forty dollars? For cooking and cleaning? His stomach did an odd little flip-flop. It wasn’t the money. Feeding his men was worth that. It was her. In his house. She’d made a point of claiming that included room and board. He’d known that was a given, but what that meant hadn’t completely struck him until right now.

She’d be living in his house. With him. What was he thinking? He’d already concluded that would start a stir long before he found her in his house.