Ryder (Prairie Grooms, Book Two) (8 page)

"I wasn't out for long.”

"Then how'd you get so chilled?"

"The cabin hasn’t any
windows yet … and … the roof leaks. Badly."

Grandma stopped up short. "Are you telling me Ryder didn't get his house done before he up and married you?"

"He said it was done, and Sadie believed him," Constance paled. "He … lied."

Grandma shook her head. "No, Ryder didn't
lie, child. As far as he was concerned, the cabin was done. He was as anxious to marry you as you were him. He just ain't educated on the way a lady likes to live, but you'll learn him, won't ya?"

Constance felt the hot sting of tears start behind her eyes. "I'll try. But it needs so much work
before it’s finished, and  ... " Before she knew it she was crying, and dare she say, caterwauling? "Oh Grandma! It's so cold in there, and there's no fire place, and the wind blew right in, and he left me out in the rain because Cutty was there and ..."

"Whoa
! Slow down. Cutty? You mean that old drifter? What was he doing there?"

Constance sniffed back her tears as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "He helps Ryder, said he was going to help him finish the cabin."

"Oh, you're right, he does. He must need money, that's the only reason he comes down out of them hills to work."

"But Ryder doesn't have any money."

Grandma put a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye. The action got her full attention. "Let me give you a piece of advice, child, and I only want to have to say this once, so listen up, ya hear?"

She nodded, eyes wide at the serious look on Grandma's face.

"Men don't like having their private business aired by their wives, ya understand? So don't tell me he ain't got no money. Can ya honestly say he doesn't?"

Constance looked away as she thought about it. "I ... I cannot say. He makes it sound that way, and he has so little."

"Oh child, he has more than you know. More than a lot of men in these parts."

"But I haven't seen it."

Grandma smiled. "I ain't talkin' about
things
, I'm talking about character. Ryder's a good man, he's honest and a hard worker, and he'd give the shirt off his back to help another. That poor Cutty gets hungry and comes down out of them hills to work for Ryder. Not many folks will hire someone that looks like a wild man and stinks to high heaven. But Ryder doesn't mind helping out a stranger or sharing a meal with someone, no matter if’n all he has is a biscuit. Those are the things that matter."

Constance swallowed and sniffed, ashamed at her earlier outburst. Her new husband
was
a good man, and doing the best for her with what he had.  And if he was doing that with so little, what could he do with a lot? "I think I have much to learn about being married."

Grandma smiled. "Child, I've been married over sixty years
, and I'm still learning! Now c'mon, let's get you something for that cough."

Six

Grandma whipped up a tonic of lemon, (an extravagance to say the least) honey, and something she refused to tell Constance what it was or where it came from, explaining that it was better she didn't know.  Grimacing at the odd green mixture, but wishing to remain healthy, she downed the mix in one swallow.  All she could taste was the lemon and honey, and a hint of something else, but had no idea what.  Trusting Grandma's expertise in such things, she didn't question her further.

After being treated by Grandma, they crossed the street to the mercantile. Constance looked for Ryder as they made their way
up the mercantile steps, but saw no sign of him. He must still be speaking with the blacksmith. She returned her attention to the task at hand as the bell above the door rang announcing their arrival.

"Hello there! Aren't you
a ..." Fanny Fig stopped and looked Constance up and down. "...er, pretty picture?" Her last words came out a squeak.

Constance hadn't thought to fix her hair while at Grandmas, and once again unconsciously reached up and touched her messy locks. "It was a windy ride into town."

Grandma glanced at her and smirked, then looked at Fanny. "What brings you to town again today. Weren't you here earlier?"

"I was, but I've been so muddled with this rustler problem that I plumb fo
rgot the flour! You know how these things upset me."

"Why don't you let the Sheriff and your husband worry about the rustlers?
" Grandma chastised. "Besides, rustlers come and go, and you don't own a cattle ranch. It's the Cookes that need to be worried."

"Oh Grandma, don't tell me not to worry, you know I'll do it anyway!"

Grandma leaned toward Constance. "Fanny always was the worst sort of fussbudget. It's amazing Henry still has all his hair with the way she talks."

"Has his hair?" Constance whispered back.

"What I mean is, he hasn't pulled it out yet."

Constance stifled a giggle as Fanny's attention was drawn to Mrs. Dunnigan coming
through the curtained doorway to the storefront. She took up her post behind the counter. "What do you need now, Fanny?"

"I forgot flour
."

Mrs. Dunnigan scrunched up her face and narrowed her eyes at the woman. "Maybe if you'd stop talking long enough to look at your list, you wouldn't forget what's on it!"

"Hush, Irene. You know how upset I am! Why, I'm liable to go home and eat a whole pie!"

"You do that you'll get fat!" Mrs. Dunnigan shot back.

Constance couldn't help but smile at the exchange. She'd seen Mrs. Dunnigan and Fanny Fig go a few friendly rounds with each other while the ladies sewing circle frantically worked on her wedding dress. Mrs. Dunnigan looked at her, as if she'd just remembered the fact. "What happened to you? Ya look terrible."

Mrs. Dunnigan was never one to mince words.

Constance sighed. "I caught a chill yesterday, and of course a cold followed. Grandma gave me something for my cough though."

"What ya come all the way into town then for? You should be home in bed!" Mrs. Dunnigan scolded.

"Yes, you should be home in bed!" Fanny added with a curt little nod.

"We needed supplies," she offered.

"Well then come on over here and give me your list," Mrs. Dunnigan huffed.

Constance wavered, and looked to Grandma. "I ... I don't actually have a list ..."

"What?" Mrs. Dunnigan
said in exasperation. "No list?"

Fanny acted as if she might faint. "No list! Whoever heard of such a thing!
"

"Like it helped you!" Grandma quipped.

Fanny made a little "harrumph" sound and spun toward the counter. "What about my flour?"

"I'm waiting for my husband, he has the list," Constance stated matter of fact as she stepped to a display table containing bolts of fabric. "I'll just peruse your wares until he arrives."

Fanny turned to look at her. "You don't have to talk all fancy you know."

Constance raised her brow at that. "This is how I talk all the time."

"Seems to me you're talking like ... well like you're better than the rest of us." Fanny said as she squared her shoulders.

Grandma snorted. "Fanny Fig, stop it! Just cause you don't speak proper lik
e Constance and her sisters doesn't make us think any less of ya.  I babble like an idiot and people still love me."

"That's true," Mrs. Dunnigan put in.

Constance glanced from one woman to the next. She couldn't decide whether to laugh or cringe at the conversation. Thankfully, Ryder came strolling through the door, and she didn't have to do either. Instead she turned to her husband and took in his wide grin.

"Guess what, Sugar? We got ourselves a new wagon!"

Her heart leapt in her chest. She'd never thought a wagon could make her so happy. "Ryder! That's wonderful!" she exclaimed with a smile to match his own. Until she remembered he didn't have much money. "Doesn't a wagon cost a lot?"

Grandma groaned at the question and smacked her on the arm.

"Ouch," Constance said and rubbed where she'd been struck. "Why did you do ... oh. Yes. I forgot."

"Quick
like too. From now on, mind what I tell ya, child. Take advantage of what I got."

"What's that?" Constance whispered.

"Experience," Grandma huffed, and went to the counter.

Constance watched as she began talking to Mrs. Dunnigan and Fanny before she turned to Ryder. "I'm sorry, I should trust you in these matters."

He studied her, his smile faded now, and nodded. "A man can't feel like a man til his wife trusts him." He closed the distance between them and looked into her eyes. "You trust me enough to get what I think we need for now?"

She could feel a deep blush of embarrassment creep up her neck and into her cheeks.  She nodded
her answer and said not a word for fear of saying the wrong thing again.

"Good," he said. He took her by the upper arms and kissed her. Constance heard a gasp behind them. "That worked," Ryder snickered.

"What?"

He rested his forehead against hers as he chuckled. "I like getting that Fanny Fig all riled up. It's so easy."

"Ryder Jones!" Constance whispered. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"I should be," he said as his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "But I ain't."

It was all Constance could do not to burst out laughing with him. That would never do. Her sister Penelope would be appalled. Eloise would probably laugh with her. She sighed at the thought.

"What's the matter, Sugar?"

"I was thinking of my sisters. I do wish I was able to see them."

"You just saw them yesterday at the weddin'."

"I know, but I don't know when I'll see them again."

"Leave em a note. Wilfred will see they get it."

"That's a wonderful idea!"

He took her by the hand and led her to the counter. "Mrs. Dunnigan, do you have some paper Constance could use?"

"And something to write with," added Constance.

"I got a list here too," said Ryder.

"One thing at a time!" Mrs. Dunnigan barked. I only got two hands." She reached under the counter and pulled out a piece of paper, a pencil, and handed it to him. Ryder gave them to Constance then in turn gave Mrs. Dunnigan his list.  She snatched it from him and began to read. "How you gonna pay for all this?" she asked.

"I got money," he said with a grin.

Mrs. Dunnigan eyed him in disbelief. "I don't give store credit ya know."

"I said I got money, Mrs. Dunnigan." To prove it he pulled a wad of money out of his pocket. Mrs. Dunnigan's eyes got wide as saucers. "You didn't sell that horse of yours did you? I thought you were gonna breed him."

"Sure am. Now about my list?"

She looked at him in confusion, as did Constance. Apparently she wasn't the only one privy to the fact her husband had few funds available to him.  So where then, did he get the cash in his hand?

He caught her look and pulled her into his arms. "You trust me?"

She swallowed, and nodded.

"Then why don't you go over there and pick out something pretty to sew into a dress."

Constance glanced to the display table that housed bolts of fabric. "
Ryder ..."

"Don't
Ryder me, I got the money. Now go pick out some fabric. You're gonna need it."

"But
Ryder ..."

"Didn't you hear what I said? Good grief woman, we ain't been
married a day and you're arguin’ with me!"

"It's not that, it's ... I can't sew."

He stared at her, as did the other women. "She's right," Grandma said. "That child can't sew worth beans."

Ryder looked to Mrs. Dunnigan who gave him a sour expression and
nodded. Fanny gave him her signature curt little nod. "Oh, I see," he said. "Well, I guess you can do your dress makin' with the ladies sewing circle. Give ya a chance to see your sisters."

Constance threw her arms around him without thinking, and kissed him on the cheek. "Oh thank you! You've made me so happy!"

He grabbed at his hat before it fell off, and hugged her back. "Well, let's see what else I can do to make ya happy!"

They spent the rest of their time in t
he mercantile getting some much-needed supplies for the cabin.  Kitchen towels, a tea kettle and tea (Constance was ecstatic at that) soap, candles, sugar, flour, jerky, lard, candy, (Ryder had a horrible sweet tooth) an extra lantern, oil, blankets, and a pair of boots for Constance. She tried them on and thought she'd died and gone to Heaven. They were much more comfortable than the shoes she owned, ones not fit for life on a ranch. She decided to wrap them up and store them for social functions, like dances or weddings. In fact, she'd be able to wear them when Eloise and Seth got married.