The Unexpected Wife (7 page)

Both boys grabbed their jackets from the edge of the bed where Matthias had left them last night and hurried out the front door.

“Be careful out there!” Abby said, running after them as she shrugged on her own coat.

Laughing, they ran to the outhouse. Quinn scooped up a handful of snow and hurled it at
Tommy, hitting him squarely in the chest. Instead of crying, Tommy grabbed his own ball of snow and propelled it into Quinn’s head.

“That’s enough out of you two,” she schooled. “You’ve no clean clothes and I don’t want you getting wet.”

The boys’ laughter trailed through the clean morning air as they darted into the outhouse while Abby waited outside.

“Is everything all right in there?”

“Yessss,” Quinn shouted.

When she didn’t hear from Tommy, she knocked on the door. “Tommy?”

“My buttons are stuck.”

Though she’d heard enough of Cook’s bawdy stories, she had no firsthand knowledge of the male plumbing. She could unhook buttons, but Tommy was on his own from there.

“Come out here then,” she said, opening the door. Quinn was just fastening his pants.

Tommy wiggled and shifted his feet from side to side. “Hurry.”

She wrestled with the buttons. “If you’d stop wiggling, I would.”

He held still for all of two or three seconds before he started wiggling again. Fortunately, this time she unhooked the buttons and scooted him back into
the outhouse. “Quinn, stay with your brother in case he needs assistance.”

“He can do it by himself. Pa showed him.”

She thought about Tommy’s slender body falling into the outhouse hole. “Well, just stay in there anyway.”

Quinn grumbled something about babies, then shouted, “He’s spraying the walls.”

“With what?” Abby shouted.

Tommy giggled. So did Quinn.

Abby opened the door just as Tommy yanked up his pants. The smell of urine told her exactly what he’d been about. “Thomas Barrington, come out here this instant.”

She knelt down and started to fasten his pants. “No more spraying.”

The boys laughed.

Abby couldn’t help but smile. She had not the faintest idea how to raise boys, but she imagined it would be an adventure.

She hustled the children back into the warm cabin and took off her coat. As she hung her coat on the peg by the door, Quinn and Tommy shrugged theirs off and dropped them on the floor.

“Oh, no, little misters. We’ll be hanging our coats from now on.”

“But Pa doesn’t care,” Quinn said.

“I do.”

He crossed his arms. “But you ain’t our ma.”

“That is correct, but you will hang your coats, nonetheless. And the correct word is aren’t, not ain’t.” She moved a kitchen chair closer to the pegs. “Climb up now and hang those coats. We’ll wash up for breakfast and then get to work on this place.”

“Breakfast!” Tommy said. He scrambled up on the chair. “I’m hungry.”

Quinn kept his lips flat and his expression defiant, but she saw the twinkle of excitement in his eyes.

After the boys washed their hands, she served them hard tack, ham and warmed milk. Neither complained about the simple fare and each asked for seconds.

Once the breakfast dishes were scraped and cleaned, they set about the task of sorting through the supplies from town.

When the downstairs was somewhat organized she climbed the ladder to her loft. The boys followed. Together they smoothed out the blankets.

“What’s that?” Quinn said pointing to her bundle of possessions still bound in the tablecloth.

“It’s just a few things I brought from home.”

She unwrapped the tablecloth. As if they’d found
a buried treasure, the boys studied the meager contents. Quinn picked up a brush and Tommy studied her black Sunday shoes, which had long lost their sheen.

“What’s that?” Quinn said pointing to a package wrapped in pink tissue paper and bound with a delicate white ribbon.

That special extra purchase she’d bought when she’d arrived in Sacramento. It was a cotton nightgown trimmed with lace and bought special for her wedding night. Less than two weeks ago she’d watched the shopkeeper gently wrap the gown in the tissue paper. She’d imagined what it would feel like to have her husband unfasten the row of tiny pearls that trailed down the middle.

Then, her husband had no face. He’d simply been words on a page.

Now, he was a flesh-and-blood man, with rawboned features and penetrating blue eyes. This time she pictured Matthias’s rough hands on the buttons and her naked flesh. A burning sensation flared in her body.

“It’s nothing of import,” she said, her voice rusty. She cleared her throat and set the bundle aside.

The gown, like her dreams, had no place in Montana.

B
y late afternoon the sun scorched through the clouds, revealing a vibrant blue sky. Under the warming sun, the snow thinned to reveal patches of green dotting the countryside.

Watching his herd of cattle, Matthias leaned forward in his saddle. His low-crowned Stetson blocked the bright sun from his eyes.

Last night’s snowfall had been a few inches at most. If the warm temperatures held, it would be completely gone by tomorrow and his cattle would soon be grazing. This snowfall had been an annoyance, but not a disaster like the crushing blizzards of a year ago when he’d lost half his herd.

Those had been some of the darkest days of his life. As his cattle had died, he’d been trapped in the cabin with the boys and a wife who by then didn’t
have the strength to get out of bed. His life had been falling apart. He’d never felt more helpless, more out of control.

A sane man would have abandoned his land which had bled so much from him. Yet he had stayed. He’d never walked away from a fight and he hadn’t walked away from this one.

And look what it had cost him.

Anger choked his throat.

He should still cut his losses and move back to Missouri. Frank had said there’d be a place for him if he returned. He hated the idea of returning east and never would have considered the move if his choices only involved him. But he had the boys to consider.

Back east, they could go to a real school, have friends of their own and not worry each winter if this one would be the one to finally crush their tiny family.

But the idea of returning to the city where a man could barely breathe stuck in Matthias’s craw. And with the railroad scouts looking for cattle and horses, he was so close to making a fine profit.

He looked up at the cloudless sky. “I reckon you think I’m a fool, Elise. You were right when you said we should leave.” He’d taken to talking to Elise when he was out on the range. If anyone were
to see him, they’d think him a damn fool, but talking to her had helped keep him sane this last year.

The whisper of the wind in the trees was his only answer.

“I reckon you know by now I hired a woman to look after the boys. She seems good with them and she’s got a kind heart. I’m certain she’ll pick up stakes by the end of the summer. I remember how much you hated it out here.”

He rubbed his forehead. He didn’t dare voice his attraction to Miss Smyth. Speaking it aloud would make it all the more tangible. The more sinful. “She’s only a hired hand,” he said with a little too much emphasis. “I made a pledge to you never to love again.”

It had been a promise he’d made as Elise lay dying. In those dark hours, he’d have bargained with the devil to save her. “And I’m going to keep my word.”

Suddenly tired, he reined his horse around and started back to the cabin. He arrived an hour before sunset, but by the time he’d finished his chores in the barn, the sun had dipped behind the horizon. Orange-red light slashed across the land and the distant mountains. This was his favorite time of day. The fading sun set the land ablaze. The beauty
of it always took his breath away. There were no views like this in Missouri.

As soon as his boot hit the front step, he heard the boys yelling, “Pa!” He smiled. As tired as he was, he liked hearing the excitement in their voices.

He reached for the front door just as it jerked open. The boys piled out onto the porch. Each was jumping up and down excitedly at the threshold. He squatted, not remembering the last time he’d seen them this lively.

Tommy swept his arms wide, proudly showcasing the cabin. “Look what we did today.”

Quinn frowned, placing his small hand over Matthias’s eyes. “No! No! First you close your eyes.”

“We played games today!” Tommy said.

Matthias chuckled. “What kind of games?”

“We made laundry piles! And we put away boxes!”

Matthias nodded, marveling at the fact that Miss Smyth had turned chores into an adventure. “Miss Smyth’s games.”

“Yes,” Quinn said. “Now keep your eyes closed and I will lead you inside.”

Matthias complied, rising slowly as each boy took a hold of his hands.

“Don’t peek, Pa,” Tommy said.

“I’m not,” he said. He moved into the main
room, half expecting to trip over one of the sacks or boxes he’d hauled in last night. “When are you going to let me see?”

“Now!” Quinn said.

Matthias opened his eyes, his gaze scanning the room. Not only had the bed been made but all the supplies had been put away. Laundry piles—one dark and one light—sat neatly in the corner. The wood floor had been swept clean and the dishes in the sink had been scrubbed and stacked on the shelves.

The smell of freshly baked beans and corn cakes greeted him. He’d not realized how hungry he was until this moment, and his mouth started to water.

A rustle of skirts and the clang of pots had his gaze swinging to the kitchen. There he saw Miss Smyth, still wearing Elise’s blue-checkered apron, only now it was covered with smudges of cornmeal. Since this morning she’d coiled her braid into a tight knot at the base of her neck. To his surprise he preferred her braid loose, swinging seductively above her bottom.

She turned then and their gazes locked. As if reading his thoughts, color rose in her neck and cheeks as she looked at him. “Welcome home.”

For the first time in his life, he felt awkward with a woman. Not a wife or a lover, yet more than just
a servant. He cleared his throat. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“There’s been a lot to do.” She lowered her gaze back to her pot on the stove. “Supper is ready if you’re hungry.”

“I could eat a bear.”

Quinn frowned. “We don’t have bear, Pa, only beans.”

Matthias laughed. Lord, but it felt good to laugh. “Beans will be just fine.”

“Well, have a seat at the table,” she said. “I’ll make you a plate.”

He noticed then that the kitchen table had been cleaned. Napkins were folded and tucked under the forks and a plate of biscuits set in the center. The table looked inviting. He felt like a traitor for thinking it, but for the first time in a while he was glad to be home.

Miss Smyth stirred her pot. Her movements weren’t as unsure as Elise’s had been. Instead, she moved with efficient precision. Every action had a purpose. He couldn’t imagine her sitting by the river reading poetry as Elise had or daydreaming about taking a steamer to Paris. Elise’s gentility had been what had attracted him. She was the mirror opposite to his raw wild nature, coaxing him back
from the wilderness with her soft words and tender smiles.

Miss Smyth was no-nonsense. She wasn’t the kind of woman who cajoled. She ordered, a trait he was more than happy to see.

“How was your day, Mr. Barrington?” Her voice was cheery and she sounded genuinely interested.

“It was fine.”

She wrapped a cloth around her hand and peeked in the oven at a skillet of cornbread. “I didn’t know if you preferred biscuits or cornbread so I made both.”

“I like both,” he said, stunned at her efficiency.

“Did you find your herd?”

“They were right where I left them. The storm didn’t do as much damage as I feared. I accounted for all the calves.”

“I’ve a good bit to learn about ranching.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Hard work and luck is all a man needs to succeed.”

“I suspect you are a hard worker.” She inserted a knife in the cornbread. Satisfied when it came out clean, she removed the pan from the oven.

“It’s the luck I lack.”

She smiled, looking at him. “Well, perhaps that has changed.”

He found himself relaxing, and then caught himself. Perhaps because he’d not had anyone ask him about his day in so long. This easy conversation made him feel just a little too married. “I’ve learned not to count on anything.”

“You men wash up,” she said, her smile a little less relaxed. “Dinner’s ready.”

“We got to wash our hands
again?
” Quinn said. “But we washed before breakfast and lunch. Ain’t we clean enough?”

“
Aren’t
we clean enough,” Miss Smyth corrected.

“They had a bath recently,” Matthias said.

“They’ve been rummaging around on the floor since lunchtime.” She nodded toward the sink. “There’s water in the basin and a rag to wash.”

The three washed, but none was happy about it, including Matthias.

“I like Abby,” Quinn said.

“Is she going to be our new mother?” Tommy said.

Matthias pulled in a deep breath. “She’s just helping me out for the summer.”

“She acts like a mother,” Tommy said.

Quinn wiped his damp hands on his pants. “Tommy called her ma twice today.”

Tommy looked up at his father, clearly unsure.

Matthias swallowed the jolt of anger. “It’s okay, son.”

Tommy looked relieved and they headed back to the table.

However, despite his words, Matthias’s anger spread like wildfire in August. It made no sense to him. The boys had asked fair questions, and it wasn’t Tommy’s fault that he’d called Miss Smyth “Ma.” But it did bother him that Miss Smyth had slipped into Elise’s role so easily. And what added salt to the wound was that Miss Smyth was doing a better job than Elise.

When they sat at the table, Miss Smyth set a pot of hot beans on the table. It had been a long time since he’d eaten a hot meal in his house and even though he knew it was rude he didn’t thank Miss Smyth. Instead, he fell on the food. He served a plateful to each boy as they grabbed corncakes off the tin platter. Without a word exchanged between the three, they dug in.

Several minutes passed before he realized Miss Smyth wasn’t eating. She sat primly in her seat, her hands folded in front of her, staring at them as if they’d grown horns.

Matthias set his fork down. It clanged against the plate a little too loudly. He was itching for a fight, if only to prove that he wasn’t all that impressed with what Miss Smyth had done here today. “Something wrong?”

“It’s customary to say prayers before a meal.” Her voice sounded so damn reasonable. She snapped open her napkin and spread it over her lap.

He scowled. “We have never bothered with such formalities out here.” In truth, they had when Elise had been healthy, but that had been so long ago.

Her chin lifted a notch at his stare, which had sent grown men running for cover. “Perhaps it’s time you started.”

His temper strained against good sense. “I don’t see why.”

“Don’t you want better for the boys? Don’t you want to see them grow up to be gentlemen who can move in polite circles?”

Deep inside, he saw the reason behind her words, but the burr under his skin wouldn’t let him walk away. “Lady, the cows on the range and the trail bosses don’t care if the boys know a bunch of useless society nonsense.
All
I care about is that they grow up to be honest and hard-working men.”

She met his fiery gaze. “And those are important traits, but it’s also important that they know their
manners. One day they will go to school, perhaps a university, and they need to know how to handle themselves.”

He wasn’t accustomed to a woman being so direct. When Elise had gotten angry there’d been tense silences and sighs. “They’re my boys, so what I say goes.”

“If I am to care for them—”

“You aren’t their mother.” He spoke much more sharply than he’d intended.

Miss Smyth’s skin paled. Fire flashed in her eyes. She laid her napkin on the table. “You’re quite right, Mr. Barrington.” She looked as if she’d say something else. But she realized the children had stopped eating and were starting intently at her.

Slowly, she rose. “I’m going out for some fresh air.”

“This isn’t the city. It’s not wise to go roaming at night.”

She moved toward the front door, where her coat hung on a peg next to the children’s. “I’ve no intention of roaming.”

Tossing his napkin on the table, he rose. He’d been an ass and he knew it. “You don’t know your way around out there.” He knew she was mad at him and frankly he couldn’t blame her. She’d worked hard today and he’d been little more than
a clod. It wasn’t her fault that she wasn’t Elise. Or that she never would be. “If it’s the outhouse that you’re needing, I’ll get my gun and go with you. There are bears this time of year.”

She reached for the door handle and opened it. “I’d rather deal with a bear.”

Before he could say another word, she slammed the door behind her.

Tears stung Abby’s eyes as she strode toward the barn. With no lantern, she had only the light from the half moon to guide her over the snow path Mr. Barrington had beaten between the house and the barn. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do when she got to the barn. She simply knew she had to get out of the house.

She stumbled on an unseen stick and it took several quick awkward steps before she caught herself. In the city there was always a street lamp or lantern to guide the way. But out here the night was so blasted dark.

She wanted to hide from Mr. Barrington’s unexplainable irritation and the shocked expressions on the boys’ faces. She’d worked so hard today because she’d desperately wanted to make that cabin feel more like a home.

And Mr. Barrington, for reasons she’d never un
derstand, had been annoyed with her for doing just that.

Reaching the barn, Abby pushed back the wooden latch that kept the door closed. Earlier, she and the boys had toured the homestead. She’d inspected the chicken house where she’d collected half a dozen eggs. As the boys chatted happily, she’d toured the barn, which unlike the house was surprisingly organized.

She paused inside the barn. The earthy smell of hay drifted over the chilly night air.

The interior was pitch-black and she could barely see her outstretched hand. Relying on the bits of moonlight by the door, she found a lantern hanging by the door and a box of matches. She lit the wick and turned it up until the light burned bright.

The barn had four stalls. Two sat empty. However, one stall on the north side held a chestnut gelding and on the other side there was a black mare with her colt.