Boot Hill Bride (8 page)

blubbered into her palms.

"Well, then put on that yellow dress."

"I-it's w-w-wrinkled."

"Well—what about this other one?"

She peeked through her fingers. Her gray skirt hung from

his hand. "That's a traveling suit," she howled.

"A traveling suit?"

"He'd never approve," she all but wailed.

The bed bounced as Howard sat down beside her. "Is that

what's wrong? You're afraid your father won't approve of how

you look?"

She squeezed her eyes shut.

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"Half an hour ago you were wearing my britches and shirt.

You didn't care then what your father thought."

A frown pulled on her brows. Yes, she had cared, she just

hadn't cried over it. Besides half an hour ago, she didn't know

how upset he was over their wedding. A new sob rolled out of

her chest, making her snort and sniffle. The overwhelming

emotions encompassing her from head to toe ate the last

amount of control she had. Twisting about, she flopped face

first onto the bed and smothered her cries into a pillow.

"Aw, hell!" he exclaimed. The bed bounced again and a few

seconds later he shouted, "Ma? Ma, come here and bring your

sewing kit."

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By the time she exited the tent both her father and Belinda

were gone. Randi didn't know if the fact made her happy or

sad. While still pondering the thought and gazing at the

empty table near the other tents, Snake arrived at her side.

He informed her Belinda and her father had gone to town to

reserve a hotel room. The news was like a double-edged

sword, for it surely meant they planned on staying in Dodge

for a least a day or two.

At the same time, the information Ma Quinter had shared

in the tent gave her the smallest amount of hope. The woman

had talked non-stop while she sewed. Most exciting had been

the fact that her two older son's had been forced into

marriage. And it appeared all had turned out perfectly. The

woman was convinced things would be the same for her and

Howard.

Stephanie Quinter, or Ma, as she insisted on being called,

sounded rough and gruff, but underneath was kind and had

quickly enticed Randi to dry her tears. Having been alone for

so long, the friendship Stephanie offered filled a strong

craving inside Randi's soul.

"Well, come on now, no dilly-dallyin'. It's been a coon-

dog's age since we had breakfast. We gotta get some lunch

going for these boys. They're bound to be about starved by

now, and there's nothin' worse than a hungry man, he gets

grumpier than a snake in a bag." Ma hooked their elbows and

tugged her toward the other tents.

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"What are we making for lunch?" The thought of cooking

increased her outlook. She'd missed preparing meals and

creating new dishes. It had been her job for as long as she

could remember, but after Mother died and she'd moved to

Topeka with her father, his cook banned her from the kitchen.

Belinda had said it was unsightly for someone in her position

to be seen in an apron.

"Kid, I told you about him and Jessie," Ma started.

She nodded, remembering Kid as the oldest Quinter son.

He and his wife, Jessie, lived near Nixon, and had two

children, a boy and a girl, who Ma proclaimed to be the most

wonderful younguns on earth, besides the two the next

brother, Skeeter, and his wife, Lila, had.

"Well, he's got lots of cattle, so I have enough beef to feed

half the state. Thought we'd just fry up some potatoes to go

with it."

"Or I could make Beef Wellington." Randi's heart skipped a

beat. She hadn't made the dish in so long. It had always been

one of Mother's favorites, but they rarely had beef, chickens

had been their mainstay. That and whatever game she'd

managed to acquire. She pinched her lips together knowing

the thought had been unfair. Even after her father had

started to visit, their pantry hadn't increased. Belinda said

they shouldn't expect it either. She'd said politicians were like

preachers; they work for the people and didn't receive an

exuberant amount of money to feed their families.

"Uh? Beef what?" Ma stared at her with wide eyes.

Randi let her wandering thoughts float away and returned

to the conversation. "We don't have an oven, do we?"

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"Nope, not yet. But knowing Hog the first room finished

will be the kitchen." Ma Quinter pointed toward the building

where men sawed and hammered.

Randi's feet stalled, and she gasped, shocked by the

transformation taking place before her eyes. "Oh, my. The

sides are almost all up. They certainly work quickly."

"Yup, when my boys set out to do something, they don't

waste their time." Ma tugged on her arm.

Randi fell in step beside the other woman, twisting every

once in awhile to catch sight of the massive building and the

men scrambling about. She tried hard to get a glimpse of

Howard, but Ma Quinter stormed forward like she was on her

way to a fire. Her quick glances did catch sight of Snake and

Bug, but not her husband. She held in the want to sigh loudly

and turned to Stephanie.

"Your sons certainly have interesting names."

Ma laughed. "Yup, their daddy did that. Gave them all nick

names and they stuck. The boys aren't always too fond of

them. Kid is really Kendell. Skeeter is Steven, Snake is Scott,

Hog is Howard, and Bug is Brett."

"Oh," Randi let the names sink in. Mother had always

called her Kitten. She'd said from the time Randi had been

born, she snuggled in like a kitten in her lap.

"So, what's the beef William stuff?"

It took Randi a moment to comprehend what the woman

meant. "Beef Wellington. It's beef baked inside a thin pastry.

It's quite delicious."

A very thoughtful look covered Ma Quinter's face. "Hmm, I

think things are gonna turn out better than I imagined."

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Perplexed, Randi asked, "Excuse me?"

The bonnet on the other woman's head fluttered about as

she shook her head, and her shoulders hiked up and down a

few times before she said, "Nothing. So what else do you

know how to cook?"

"Oh, lots of things. My great-grandfather had a hotel and

restaurant in New York years ago, and when my mother was

a little girl she stayed with them. When she was ill she would

talk about all the fancy dishes they used to serve, so I

ordered some cookbooks and learned how to cook many of

them for her." The cookbooks were safely tucked inside her

carpet bags, the few things Belinda hadn't made her

destroy—only because she didn't know about them.

"You don't say?"

"Yes, I love to cook." They stopped outside Ma's tent

where a complete camp site had been set up. Tables, chairs,

washing station, a fire pit with a wide tri-pod balanced over it,

and several other necessities sat about.

"Does Hog know all this?" Ma rubbed her chin.

"No." Worry tugged on Randi's face, and she cringed, not

wanting to upset him anymore than he already was. "Will he

be mad?"

"Mad?" Ma guffawed. "What man would be mad to know

his wife can cook?"

Randi let out a long sigh, almost afraid to admit another

one of her many faults. "I'm afraid I don't know much about

men."

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"Well, honey. The way to a man's heart is through his

stomach and for Hog that's double fold." The woman moved

toward a wagon with a billowing canvas top.

She followed. "So Hog-oward likes to eat?" It was a stupid

question. Howard was the largest man she'd ever seen. He

wasn't overweight, she hadn't seen a wrinkle of excess

anywhere on his broad chest and flat stomach, but a man his

size must need a large amount of food to maintain the

breadth of a body so immense.

"You could say that," Ma said. A large smile curled the

ends of her thin lips. "You certainly could say that." She

climbed into the back of the wagon. "So what do you want to

cook?"

A rush of happiness she couldn't control made Randi

scamper in behind the other woman. "Well, let's see what you

have."

Howard lifted his head to wipe away the sweat dripping in

his eyes. The workmen he'd hired were outdoing themselves.

More had been accomplished this morning than he'd expected

in a full day of work. While he'd been getting hitched, the

hired hands had assembled the walls. He'd arrived in time to

help raise the fourth one.

Through an opening in the wood, he caught sight of his

mother and Randi strolling arm in arm toward the other tents.

His hand fell to rest on a support beam. Her long hair had

been rearranged, neatly pinned to the back of her head, and

the sides puffed out like a sun bonnet.

His eyes continued their appraisal. Her straight shoulders

and back gave her the ambiance of style and affluence. The

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soft even sway of her trim hips made her blue skirt swirl

about her feet as she walked. Perhaps Thurston Fulton had

been right. She would make the perfect hostess for his

establishment.

"See something you like there, brother?"

He sucked up, swallowed his outlandish thoughts, and

gave Bug an icy stare.

His youngest brother pushed him aside to gaze between

the boards. "Hmm, not bad if you ask me."

An irritating pinch stung his stomach. "No one's asking

you, and you better keep those eyes in your head if you know

what's good for you."

Bug let out a deep laugh that bounced off the walls. "Oh, I

know what's good for me, just wondering if you know what's

good for you."

He tapped Bug's chest with one finger. "You getting back

to work is what's good for you."

"Funny you know?"

"What? What's funny?"

"I just always figured Ma's shotgun would get Snake

hitched before you. Good thing I ain't a bettin' man." Bug

reached down, took the extra hammer lying by his feet, and

chuckling, strolled away.

Howard's gaze went back to the women. They were both in

the back of the storage wagon. What was he going to do with

her? Whether she'd make a good hostess or not, he really

didn't have time for a wife. And most definitely didn't have

time to deal with her father. Having an alliance, no matter

how strained, with the Populist Party would damage his

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business before it even opened. He had to get rid of Fulton

immediately, the railroad and cattlemen he expected to cater

to would be appalled by the politician.

A thought exploded in his head. Snapping his fingers, he

turned about.
Skeeter!
Minutes later, he found Snake on the

far side of the building. "I gotta go to town."

"What for?" Snake asked, gesturing toward a buckboard

piled high with building equipment. "Maybe I have it in the

supply wagon."

"I need to send a wire to Skeeter."

"Skeeter? What for?"

Howard raised his eyebrows. "I'm gonna ask him if he'd

like a visit from the next governor of Kansas."

Snake started laughing and gave his head a short quick

shake. "You really dislike your new father-in-law don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Howard admitted without thought to how it

sounded.

"You better make it a long wire. Skeeter'll need to know

details."

He laid his hand on Snake's shoulder. "I'm thinking more

about Buffalo Killer. The brave might like to meet a

politician."

Snake let out a low whistle. "Your new wife might not like

it if her father comes back scalped."

"Naw, Skeeter won't let it go that far," he said, but a slight

twinge did tickle his spine.

"You must know a different Skeeter than I do if you

believe that."

Howard smirked. "Well, Lila won't let it go that far."

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Snake nodded. "That I can agree with."

"I'll be back in an hour or so." A smile tugged at his lips.

Buffalo Killer was one of Skeeter and Lila's best friends, and a

hell of a guy. But if there was one thing the Sioux hated, it

was politicians. Getting Thurston Fulton out of town for a

while would give him time to figure out what to do with

Randilynn.

He certainly couldn't let her move back to Topeka with the

man. Maybe he should send a wire to Kid as well, find out

more about that girl's university in Boston he tried to send

Jessie to right after they got married.

Guilt made Howard's stomach roll. Not over the wire,

Thurston Fulton deserved any loathing Buffalo Killer would