Page 35 of Mail-Order Bride Mommy
Mr. Dixon drained his cup, took two more cookies, and pushed his chair back. “Matt, let’s go look at your horses and leave these women to have a chin wag.”
Matt looked at Gwen. As if asking her if she was all right with him leaving. Knowing he cared, that spot deep within again made its presence known. She smiled. “That sounds nice.”
As soon as the men departed, Opal leaned forward. “Merry and Roscoe were dear friends. It was such a tragedy the way they died. And poor Lindy. But at least she had the Shannons to provide her a home and now she has you. I must say I was delighted to hear that the girl would get a mother. Now tell me about yourself.”
Gwen laughed softly and Opal laughed too. “You’ll have to forgive me. But I don’t see near enough of other people and Vern and I run out of things to say to each other. Where are you from?”
Gwen told of growing up in a small city along the Mississippi River. “My father oversaw shipping along the river until his passing. What about you? Where are you from?”
Opal had been born and raised near Fort Benton. “So I’m familiar with river traffic.” She told Gwen many things about the Crow Crossing area, the ranchers, and their wives.
“The women get together from time to time for a quilting bee. You might enjoy that.” Opal said.
“I most certainly would. I love sewing.”
“Me too, though my time is mostly used in making clothes for two growing children.”
Gwen hesitated a moment before she spoke again. “I make clothes, of course. I’ve made quilts. I brought one with me.” The others she’d left behind but wondered if Patricia would throw them out simply because Gwen had made them. “But what I love doing most is creating special dolls for children.”
“Rag dolls. That’s nice.”
They weren’t ordinary rag dolls but not knowing how they would be received, Gwen wasn’t ready to show her creations to anyone just yet.
Mr. Dixon came back at that moment. “We need to be on our way. Thank you for everything.” They rounded up their children and returned to the wagon.
“Nice to meet you,” Opal called. “Welcome to our part of the world, Mrs. Shannon.”
“I’m not—” But her words were drowned out by the rattle of the wagon. “I’m not Mrs. Shannon,” she finished softly with only Matt to hear her.
* * *
Matt watchedGwen’s expression grow wary. Then she smiled. “I guess they’ll learn the truth soon enough, but I don’t want them to think I was trying to deceive them.”
No doubt everyone in the community was aware that he’d been expecting a mail-order bride. He didn’t care if they knew, any more than he cared whether or not they approved.
But her concerns were valid. They’d expect he had married her. His reasons for his sudden change of heart on the way to town no longer seemed quite so compelling “I’ve put you in an awkward position. I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t force me to agree. The Dixons seem like nice people.”
He gladly turned to other things. “They are. They moved in here a few years ago. He and some other investors purchased the lease. Vern is a good operator. He and Pa were among the few that survived the bad winter of ’86-’87 with minimal losses. Pa prepared for such a winter.” Matt grinned. “An old native friend had warned him to expect a bad one. He’d put up hay and told Vern to do the same. He warned the others, but they didn’t pay him any mind. We moved our cattle to lower pastures before the snow hit. Vern followed our example.”
“I can see you’re proud of that accomplishment and you should be.”
“Pa was a wise man. I hope we are as good. I figure it takes all four of us working together to have the know-how of our father.”
She laughed at his assessment. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet him. Or your mother.”
“They would have liked you.” He hadn’t given his words any thought before uttering them, but he knew them to be true. And it surprised him.
Her eyes gleaming, she pressed her fingers to his forearm. “Thank you for saying so. It means more to me than you can guess.”
It was not the first time she’d touched him. Was she even aware that she did so or was she only reaching out to him like she would have to Lindy? He’d ignore it. Pretend the feel of her fingers didn’t have the ability to travel along his veins and reach into the depths of his heart to nestle there, carrying promise. He’d pretend he wasn’t aware of her so close, that he didn’t inhale something as sweet as spring flowers.
But those feelings did not go along with his decision, and he stiffened.
Her gaze darted away and then returned before he could even miss it. And time ticked by in solitary seconds. He heard nothing but the beat of his heart. Saw nothing but the surprise—and dare he believe? —hope in her eyes. A vast universe of possibility.
She lowered her head and withdrew her hand. At the same time, he stepped back so they no longer touched. He had no idea what had just happened. Or if anything had. Perhaps he was suffering from some kind of spring fever.When a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.
