Dallas Schulze - Short Straw Bride

“I’m looking for a wife, not a pack mule,” Luke said irritably.

“Need some of the same qualities in both,” Daniel said. “Strong and steady, even-tempered—” He caught his brother’s annoyed look and broke off but there was nothing repentant about his grin. “Course, I’ve never seen a pack mule I wanted to share a bed with.”

“Pack mule’s got more sense than to look at the likes of you,” Luke said.

“So you think Ellen Williams is the one?”

“Eleanor,” Luke corrected automatically. “And I won’t know till I’ve had a chance to talk to her a bit more.”

“I don’t know, Luke. Marrying’s a serious business.” The laughter died out of Daniel’s eyes, which were the same clear gray as his brother’s. “Maybe this ain’t such a good idea, after all. Maybe we ought to just forget the whole idea and try another housekeeper.”

If he’d thought about it, Luke would have said that he wanted nothing more than to give up the idea of finding himself a wife. And here was Daniel, saying that he should give it up. He opened his mouth to agree that it had been a dumb idea from the start and that they should put it behind them. And found himself remembering Eleanor Williams’s big brown eyes, the shy smile in them and heard her voice saying that she’d lived in Black Dog six years, four months and twelve days.

“I said I was going to find a wife and that’s what I’m going to do,” he heard himself say stubbornly.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Daniel’s surprised look. Since he was no less surprised himself, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about his decision. He nudged the gray into a canter, effectively putting an end to the conversation. For some reason, the idea of having a wife just didn’t seem as bad as it once had.

The Wednesday after he and Daniel attended church, Luke found himself driving the buckboard into Black Dog to pick up supplies. He hadn’t expected to find himself back in town quite so soon and was irritated by the necessity. But since their last cook had decided that California’s winters would suit his old bones more than the biting prairie winds, Luke and Daniel had been sharing the duty, and it was Luke’s turn to make the trip.

He nodded to Chet Longman, who ran the livery stable and was also the sheriff, when Black Dog had need of such. He heard the tinny sound of a piano from the Gold Dust Saloon as he drove past and decided he’d stop by for a drink before making the long, dusty drive back to the ranch. It wasn’t much consolation for a wasted day but it was better than nothing.

They had to find another cook, he thought irritably. Or a wife. His eyes narrowed as his attention was caught by a particularly ugly hat—a familiar hat. The woman wearing it was walking briskly down the boardwalk, the skirts of her mint green dress swaying invitingly. As Luke watched, she pushed open the door of Webb’s General Store & Emporium, and Luke allowed himself a grin. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be such a waste of time, after all.

When her aunt Dorinda had sent her out to buy a length of linen for new towels, Eleanor had welcomed the chance to get out of the house and enjoy a walk in the spring sunshine. And going to Webb’s would give her a chance to make amends to Mr. Webb for her blatant inattention to him after church on Sunday. When Reverend Mulligan had brought the McLain brothers over to be introduced, Andrew Webb had been promptly and somewhat rudely forgotten. She couldn’t expect to draw a proposal from Mr. Webb if she ignored him just because she’d been introduced to another man. Even if that other man did happen to be the most attractive—

But that wasn’t the point, she reminded herself briskly. Even if Luke McLain was the embodiment of every girlish fantasy she’d ever had, she was no longer a girl. She was twenty now and it was time to put away childish dreams. There was no knight in shining armor to come riding out of the prairie and sweep her off to a better life. She was going to have to build that better life for herself, and Andrew Webb offered her the best hope for a new future.

So she’d put on her favorite dress, a soft green cotton that suited her coloring much better than most of Anabel’s castoffs, and she’d put on the ugly hat Mr. Webb had thought suited her. She’d wondered briefly if she could really be contemplating spending the rest of her life with a man who had such dreadful taste in millinery, but then reminded herself that there could be worse things. Like living with her aunt and uncle.

She’d spent a moment batting her eyes at her own reflection and trying to imitate Anabel’s way of looking at a man from under her lashes. But the look that was coquettish on Anabel seemed simply foolish on herself. Since Mr. Webb was looking for a mother for four small children, perhaps he’d be more impressed by common sense than coquetry. Common sense she had in abundance.

Drawing a deep breath, Eleanor pushed open the door of Webb’s. She immediately had the urge to turn and run, but the little bell over the door had already given away her presence and Andrew Webb was stepping out from behind the counter, his thin face wreathed in a smile.

“Miss Eleanor. What a pleasure to see you again so soon.”

“Mr. Webb.” Eleanor gave him her warmest smile and was pleased to see him blink and swallow hard.

“What can I help you with today?” he asked, regaining his composure.

“My aunt was hoping you’d have some good linen toweling. We’ve just finished spring cleaning and she’d like fresh towels to finish things off.”

“I have just the thing. Got it from St. Louis not two weeks ago.”

Eleanor followed him as he went to find the requested item. Looking at his scarecrow-thin figure and neatly combed sandy hair, she tried not to picture a pair of broad shoulders beneath a plain black coat and a head of deep brown hair in need of a cut.

“Best money can buy,” Andrew said proudly as he lifted a bolt of fabric onto the counter. “Your aunt won’t find any better, even if she went to Denver.”

“It looks like just what she had in mind,” Eleanor murmured. Her eyes were drawn to a bolt of royal blue grenadine. The deep, rich color would suit her coloring much better than her cousin’s castoff pastels. She reached out to finger the soft fabric, picturing it made up in a simple gown with a minimum of decoration, with perhaps just a touch of lace at the neckline and wrists to soften the severity of the cut.

“That’s much too dark a color for a young lady such as yourself, Miss Eleanor.” At Webb’s comment, she let her hand drop away from the fabric. “Something in a softer shade, perhaps. My late wife favored pinks and the softest of blues,” he said reminiscently. He seemed to suddenly realize to whom he was speaking and flushed a deep shade of red. “I hope you don’t mind me mentioning my wife.”

“Not at all. It’s only natural that you think of her.”

“Yes. But life goes on and I’ve put aside my grief and am looking to the future.”

The fervent look he gave her left no doubt that he was hoping the future he looked toward included her. Looking into his watery eyes, Eleanor felt her heart sink. Was she really contemplating spending the rest of her life with this man? At most, she felt a mild liking for Andrew Webb. Could a happy marriage be built on so little?

She was saved the necessity of having to answer either him or herself by the jangle of the bell over the door. It rang again almost immediately and the harsh tones of Cora Danvers admonishing her son about something echoed through the store. Andrew jumped and blushed again, like a boy caught smoking his father’s cigars behind the privy. He glanced over Eleanor’s head toward the front of the store.