MARGARET: Suffragettes Mail-Order Bride (Choice Brides Agency #3) Page 5

  Comprehension dawned on Margaret. Naturally anything that reminded the boy of his parents’ deaths would be unpleasant.

  She wondered what it would be like to see one’s parents murdered. She was lucky that although her parents had died in a fire, and despite the many nightmares – she never actually saw it. Poor William must have seen it happen. She couldn’t imagine what that had done to the boy.

  It wasn’t until she joined Jake inside of the barn that she realised she hadn’t had her usual nightmare when she’d fallen asleep in Cora’s cottage. She must have been too exhausted.

  Inside, the barn was hot and full of sweet-smelling hay, but there was a sour smell of birds. Margaret had to concentrate on keeping her expression neutral so that she didn’t insult Jake or Will. The sound of the gentle crowing filled the air, and when she entered the barn properly she could see large golden-brown chickens roosting all over the room. Some were nestled in piles of hay, while others were balanced precariously on the rafters above her. There were white and black smudges all over the room – the chickens’ waste had clearly been cleaned up regularly, but there was still a lot and it made the air feel thick.

  Will took Margaret’s hand and led her to the other side of the room. She didn’t bother trying to watch where she was going. Her boots would get mucked up regardless of where she put her feet. She would just need to clean them at the end of the day. Against the opposite wall was a huge rack of chicken nests stuffed with hay. Some of them had chickens roosting in them, while others seemed empty. Will ran up to one of the empty ones and fished around in the hay, before pulling his fist back and triumphantly showing Margaret an egg.

  “Here, hold your dress like a basket,” he said.

  Jake made a noise. “Now, Will – you can’t ask a lady to lift her skirts like that –”

  “Mama did it all the time!”

  Margaret lifted her skirt at the waist, creating a little basket near her belly where Will could put the egg. She was showing her ankles, but she deliberately didn’t think about that. Will was too young to know what that meant and Jake would be her husband soon.

  Will filled her dress while Jake disappeared and returned with a woven basket for Margaret to transfer the eggs into. He avoided her eyes as he took the eggs. When his fingers brushed hers, Margaret glanced up at Jake in surprise at the thrill that passed through her, but his eyes remained on the eggs. When her hands were free she joined Will in gathering the rest of the eggs in the nests, gamely sticking her hand beneath a clucking hen who was sitting on top of several eggs in one of the racks that Will couldn’t reach. When she put those eggs into the basket, she noticed that Jake had raised his eyebrow at her.

  “Am I doing it wrong?” she asked.

  “No – just the opposite,” he said. He glanced at Will, who was trying to coax one of the hens who wasn’t roosting in the rack to sit on his shoulder. “I wasn’t expecting a city girl to be willing to get her hands dirty.”

  Margaret gave him a look which she hoped was enough to convey how little she thought of that idea. “In that case, why would you even ask Elizabeth to match you with a ‘city girl’?” she asked.

  Jake looked suitably chastised. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  Margaret thought of some of the society women who Elizabeth used to spend all of her time with before she’d become more active in the suffragette movement, and she decided Jake’s surprise wasn’t entirely without basis. But she was not a society woman. Her lower-class family would have fallen apart if she hadn’t been willing to get dirty sometimes – whether it was when she was working, cleaning their house, or even just walking home and getting sprayed with muck when a horse and carriage rode through a puddle next to her.

  Will tugged on Margaret’s dress, drawing her attention. He’d managed to get the chicken on his head and he looked terribly proud of himself.

  “Wonderful – those hats will be all the rage next season!” she said, stroking the long-suffering chicken’s head.

  Will laughed, his milk teeth broadening in a wide smile. Out of the corner of her eye, Margaret noticed Jake was smiling as well. She could get used to seeing that man smile.

  Nine

  Jake watched as Margaret laughed with William and felt his heart clench. His mind began to drift towards memories of his brother and sister-in-law, and he determinedly pulled it back to the present. It wouldn’t do to get emotional now, while William was having so much fun.

  He hadn’t expected Margaret to get along with the boy so well. He’d expected her to be good with children, of course – Elizabeth had told him that Margaret was a teacher, and he’d hoped in time she would build a strong relationship with his nephew – but this instant connection was entirely unexpected. But then, he thought, maybe it wasn’t. They had both lost their parents, after all. Maybe that had something to do with it.

  As they walked around the ranch, William excitedly showed Margaret everything from the blossoming stalks of wheat in the fields to the sheep and cattle grazing in paddocks beyond their reach. William loved the sheep. Margaret seemed to like them as well. Jake followed along behind them, letting William do most of the talking, carrying the half-full basket of eggs at his side. He had to concentrate hard not to blush at the memory of Margaret lifting her skirt for a makeshift basket. It was the sort of thing he’d seen Katy do for William when they’d walked around the ranch.

  Margaret would look at Jake occasionally as they walked, hitting him with her pleasant smile that lit up her face and made him feel things entirely unexpected. He thought for sure that his interest must have been written all over his face and he berated himself for thinking of her romantically when she’d come to Montana for a mutually beneficial business arrangement. She wouldn’t want him, a simple rancher, for anything else.

  By the time they returned to Cora’s little cottage, it was time for lunch. Margaret’s hair had dried, and the soft tendrils which framed her face were curling more tightly from the sticky heat. Jake liked that. It made him want to reach out and smooth them down.

  “Gran made food,” William said, sniffing the air and running for the house before either Jake or Margaret could stop him. He threw open the door and disappeared inside, leaving Jake and Margaret standing alone on the path.

  “Nose like a wolf, that one,” Jake said wryly. Sure enough, he could smell roast lamb on the air as he approached Cora’s cottage.

  It had been a while since his mother had made roast lamb. Not since… well, not since his brother had brought Katy home to meet the family. Cora’s roast lamb was a sign of approval – an indication of her desire to impress a new family member. Jake’s cheeks flushed at the thought that his mother approved of Margaret.

  “Oh, children have an amazing sense of smell,” Margaret said, following the path William had taken. “And a remarkable sense of hearing, as well – they can hear a swear word from three streets away, and then repeat it for days.”

  Jake barked out a startled laugh. Margaret looked pleased. “That’s good to know. I’ll tell the men to watch their tongues from now on.”

  “How many employees do you have?” she asked.

  “Five here on the ranch – you’ll meet them – and then about a half dozen who come in during harvest season and slaughter.”

  She nodded. When they got to the front door of the cottage, they both reached for the door at the same time. Their fingers brushed together and Jake instantly jerked back, wishing he’d washed his hands earlier instead of coming straight off the fields to see his nephew. Even though Margaret had gamely stuck her hands in chicken nests to find eggs, her skin looked flawlessly clean – soft and inviting.

  Margaret pulled back as well, and there was an awkward moment where neither was sure whether to reach for the door or hang back and let the other do it. She was a suffragette, Jake reminded himself. She probably preferred to do things herself.

  Just as he decided to hang back and let her go through the door first, Margaret
gestured towards it: “After you,” she said.

  Feeling like an idiot, Jake opened the door and stepped aside so she could pass. Jake could smell a pleasant, floral scent wafting behind her as she walked into the house. He could get used to that scent.

  Jake loved his mother’s house. When his father had died, Cora had moved Jake and his brother into the smaller cottage behind the barn because she’d hated to clean the larger main house. Since then, the main house had been used mainly by the ranch hands – they would keep it clean themselves or risk Cora’s wrath. When Jake took over the handling of the ranch, he’d moved out of Cora’s cottage and into the main house. He’d felt it was necessary, now that he was a man, to move away from his mother’s nest. But the main house was practical, not personal, and he was constantly reminded of how empty it felt without a woman there.

  No woman yet, he reminded himself. He imagined that Margaret would probably make the house feel like a home in no time. He wondered if it would smell like her. He hoped that it would.

  Jake followed the smell of lamb to the kitchen, where Cora was dishing up some plates with William lurking at her skirts, begging for a taste.

  “Not before our guest – now go get washed up, don’t think I don’t know you’ve been playing in the muck all morning.”

  “Margaret played in the muck, too!” William replied.

  Margaret smiled in a dry, amused way, as though she were used to the accusations of children being thrown her way.

  “Why don’t we go wash up together, then?” Margaret suggested.

  William nodded enthusiastically, took her hand, and allowed himself to be led out of the kitchen door and out of sight. Jake looked down at his hands and thought that he should probably wash up too. He decided to wait until Margaret and William were done first.

  “I like her,” Cora said when Margaret was gone.

  “Did you two get the chance to talk much last night?” he asked, already a little bit jealous at the thought that his mother would be spending more time with his future bride than he was.

  “No, she fell asleep, poor dear,” Cora replied. “Found her in her bedroom after you stormed out.”

  He hadn’t stormed out, he thought. He’d left like a reasonable adult. When Margaret had left Cora and Jake alone the day before, Cora had berated him for treating Margaret like a burden and a distraction instead of a human being. Jake had tried to explain that Margaret knew their arrangement was one of mutual benefit, and not meant to be romantic.

  “If you don’t want her to think this is romantic, you should probably stop throwing her those hound dog looks,” Cora had told him.

  “I’m not throwing hound dog looks!”

  “You are,” Cora had said. “Seeing you look at her is like seeing one of your mutts look at a steak.”

  He’d left then. Calmly, and not at all in a storm.

  “She must have been tired from her trip,” she added, stirring the gravy pot a few times before adding it to a serving plate. “She slept all through the night as well.”

  Jake felt a twinge of concern. He hoped she wasn’t ill or poorly affected by the long journey.

  “Well she seems better now,” he said.

  “Yes, I thought you would have noticed,” Cora replied, giving her son a significant look. “That green dress looks good on her, doesn’t it?”

  “I’m not blind, Mom,” he said. “But like I told you – this is a business arrangement, nothing more. She needs security, and I need someone to help take care of William.”

  Cora snorted. “And the fact that she’s beautiful will have absolutely no effect on your so-called ‘business arrangement’?”

  “None at all,” he replied.

  She sighed then. He hated it when his mother sighed. It was worse than seeing her angry – because she had a way of making her sighs sound like little disappointments. He remembered the fight they’d had after he’d met with Elizabeth. Cora had thought that Jake would be giving up on his chance to find love and happiness by settling on a mail-order bride. Jake had replied that they couldn’t all be as lucky as Hank. That was back when Hank had been alive.

  At least they had both agreed that Abigail would not have made a suitable wife for Jake. Cora would never have made her roast lamb for Abigail.

  Jake grabbed the serving tray before she could retort, carrying it through the kitchen door and into the dining room where the table was already laid out. There was a knock on the front door as Jake was setting the food down.

  “Jake! Can you get that?” his mother called from the kitchen.

  “Got it!”

  Jake headed down the hallway, finding one of his younger ranch hands – Tom – at the door. He was a good kid, only nineteen and still learning the ropes of ranch life, but strong and tall. Jake was glad he’d snatched the boy up before someone else.

  “Letter arrived for you, boss,” Tom said. He handed over an envelope. “Is that lamb I smell?”

  “I’ll see if I can get Mom to set aside some leftovers for you,” Jake said.

  Tom grinned. “Thanks, boss.”

  “I’ll be out after lunch – tell the others to get started without me,” Jake added. He hated asking the men to work while he lounged around in the house, but he wanted to stay with Margaret. He told himself it was because he wanted to get to know his future wife and partner better, and not because he enjoyed spending the time with her.

  Tom seemed to understand. He nodded once, tipped his cap, and sauntered off along the path towards the barn.

  Jake glanced down at the envelope in his hand and grimaced. It was from Abigail’s father, Richard Drake. He ran a tailoring business in town and Jake would supply him with wool and hides. Their business relationship had soured since Jake had decided that he and Abigail wouldn’t last. He hoped this letter was good news.

  “Jake! Don’t forget to wash up before lunch.”

  He squashed the part of himself that wanted to remind his mother that he was a grown man. Instead, he stuffed the letter in his pocket and went down the hall to get prepared for lunch with Margaret.

  Ten

  Margaret hadn’t remembered such a wonderful meal. Not only was the food delicious, but the company was delightful as well. Cora, it turned out, was a subscriber to the Montana suffragette newsletter. She and Margaret had a long discussion about William H. Bright’s, ‘An Act to Grant the Women of Montana Territory the Right of Suffrage and to Hold Office’. Jake had watched it all with a small smile on his face – something Margaret approved of very much indeed. He must be in favor of women’s suffrage based on his reaction.

  “Who’s ready for desert?” Cora asked when the lamb was finished. Will and Jake both nodded. “Excellent – Jake, you know where it is.”

  Margaret couldn’t help but laugh at the annoyed expression on the man’s face as he pushed himself away from the table and headed down the hall towards the kitchen.

  Cora leaned conspiratorially in to speak to Margaret: “Jake’s got a soft spot for you, dear – just watch, he’ll set aside the best slice for you.”

  Margaret blinked and felt a soft flush creep up her cheeks. “I don’t –”

  But Cora just waved her off. “I know, I know, ‘business arrangement’ and all that nonsense.”

  “What’s a business arrangement?” Will asked from his seat next to Margaret.

  “Some things are meant only for the adults, Will, you know that,” Cora said primly.

  Margaret didn’t know where to look when Jake finally returned with a still-steaming apple pie. She tried to cover up her embarrassment by praising the food and did her best to avoid Cora’s eyes when Jake cut Margaret a thick, crumbly slice.

  When the pie was gone, Cora enlisted Will to help her clean up, leaving Jake and Margaret alone at the table. The silence quickly grew awkward as neither Margaret nor Jake seemed to know what to say to the other. Jake eventually pulled a letter out of his pocket and slit it open, reading at the table and apparently deciding to prete
nd Margaret wasn’t there.

  Margaret felt herself growing annoyed at that. It wasn’t – she told herself sternly – that she’d been hoping Cora was right and that Jake did in fact have a soft spot for her. She was just reacting to his rudeness. Once again, he was showing his indifference as clearly as if he were to come right out and say it. Margaret wondered if it would even be worth staying on the ranch and marrying the man if he were so determined to ignore her. Surely that didn’t bode well for a marriage? Surely as his ‘partner’ he would expect her to communicate with him, and she could expect the same from him?

  But then she remembered Will. How melancholy he was when he thought about his parents, and the way his face had lit up as he’d walked Margaret around the ranch, showing off his world. She hadn’t been expecting a child so soon but she was glad that, if she had to be responsible for a child so soon in her marriage, that it was Will.

  As she was thinking about that, she realised Jake’s face had grown dark and annoyed.

  “Is everything alright?” she asked.

  He pursed his lips and glared at the letter for a moment longer before transferring his glare to her. “Just some business,” he said.

  Margaret tried not to quail under the strength of his gaze. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

  “Why would you think that,” he muttered.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  Margaret couldn’t let that stand. She straightened her back and aimed a stern look at the man – the kind of look she usually reserved for children who were likely to be caned if they didn’t begin doing as she asked.

  “Mr. MacDonald, aren’t we supposed to be partners soon?” she asked.

  Jake’s glare softened then, and she was glad. If only because he was far more handsome when his face wasn’t scrunched up and foul looking. He glanced at the letter again before heaving a sigh and running a hand through his hair.