Page 142 of Conveniently Wed
As the mules plodded into the clearing in the evening dusk, Leah stared at the two wooden structures before her. One was obviously the barn, with fences fanning out on three sides. A well-worn path ran from the barn to the other building, which looked like a guest cottage made of logs. A covered porch spanned the front, but neither the porch nor the steps had a handrail, only occasional log posts that supported the roof. White ruffled curtains could be seen in both of the windows that flanked the front door.
The door opened and a little blonde wisp of a woman stepped out. She wore a bright smile and wiped her hands on the grayish apron at her waist. As the wagon pulled to a stop, the woman hurried forward, and Leah realized she was actually no more than a teenager, fifteen or sixteen at most.
“Oh, I’m so glad to see another woman I could just hug you.” For a moment, it seemed the girl might actually follow through with her words as the little magpie bounced around to Leah’s side of the wagon.
“Please do come in and have supper with us.” She looked over at Ol’ Mose. “Gideon will be back from the cattle any minute, and he’ll be pleased to see you.”
Leah’s heart skipped a beat. If Gideon would be coming back from the cattle, surely Abel, her possible future husband, would be with him. Ol’ Mose had said they worked the ranch together.
Leah climbed carefully from the wagon. Her muscles had toughened after five days of jolts and jarring. She pressed both hands to her skirt, inhaled a breath for fortitude, and turned to face the girl with her most pleasant expression.
“Hello, I’m Leah Townsend. I believe Mr. Abel Bryant is expecting me.”
Leah waited for the look of recognition to come over the girl’s face. It did, sort of. Recognition mixed with…horror? Her eyes widened big as silver dollars, the green illuminated in the centers. All color slipped from her face.
Within seconds, those green eyes clouded and, for a moment, it looked like she might break into tears. Or swoon. Leah reached forward to slip a hand around the girl’s shoulders.
She seemed to catch herself quickly, and pulled the dirty apron up to wipe her eyes. “I’m sorry, I…” She looked up at Leah with the most mournful expression. “Abel died about two weeks ago. Gideon sent a wire tellin’ you not to come, but I guess you didn’t get it…” Her voice drifted off.
It took a moment for the words to register. It couldn’t be possible. Dead? The man she’d come to marry? From the stories Ol’ Mose had told, she felt like she knew him now. But?—
Then her gaze caught on the pain etched in the girl’s face, and her own loss slipped to the background. She leaned forward and embraced the girl.
She knew all too well what it was like to lose someone she loved. She felt the young woman’s slender arms wrap around her as if she was starving and human touch the only thing that could feed her. Leah couldn’t define what passed between them during that hug, but she felt a connection with this girl she’d never felt with anyone except Emily.
Finally, the girl stepped back, wiping at her eyes again. She looked at Leah, suddenly shy. “I’m Miriam, Gideon and Abel’s little sister.”
Leah smiled through her misty vision. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miriam.”
The girl seemed to recover herself a bit then, and looked up at Ol’ Mose, still seated in the wagon, watching them.
“If you’d like to put your mules in the barn, there’s plenty of hay and water for them. Then come in the house. I have coffee on and dinner should be just about ready.”
It was a wonder how the girl pulled herself together and suddenly became the lady of the house, as rustic as that house might be.
Ol’ Mose nodded. “Yes’m. I’m awful sorry to hear about your brother, Miz Miriam.” Before she could respond, he slapped the reins and rumbled, “Giddup!”
Miriam turned back to Leah, her shy smile returning. “If you’d like to come in, I’ll fix ya a cup of coffee. I’d like it if you’d tell me all about yourself. I don’t get to visit with other women much, so you comin’ is a real treat.”
“Of course.” Leah followed her into the cabin.
If she’d thought the outside was rustic, the inside was close to primitive. They entered a large open room that appeared to be both kitchen and drawing room. On her left in the sitting area, a large fireplace dominated the wall, with a wooden mantel above and a few miscellaneous chairs placed in a semi-circle around. One of the seats was a rocking chair, somewhat similar to the rocker that had been in her childhood nursery. Mama had rocked her there for hours, even after she’d grown too big to sit in her mother’s lap.
Straight ahead and dividing the sitting area from the kitchen were two closed doors, with a ladder between them that climbed the wall to an open area below the ceiling.
Leah turned her attention to the right where Miriam was scurrying between an iron cook stove and a work table. A few open shelves lined the wall, along with several barrels and leather sacks. Taking up most of the space, though, was a wood plank table with six ladder-back chairs around it.
“Please sit down.” Miriam gestured toward one of the seats. A mug graced the table in front of where she pointed, steam wafting from the liquid inside. “You’re probably worn out from the trip from Fort Benton.” She grimaced. “Although you may not want any more sittin’.”
“Thank you.” Leah moved forward to accept Miriam’s hospitality. “I don’t mind sitting as long as the chair doesn’t bounce around.” She smiled slightly at her own attempt at humor.
Miriam’s face broke into a grin, her shy smile gone and the magpie Leah had first seen fully returned. As Leah arranged her navy skirt around the chair, Miriam began cutting some kind of green leaves on the work table.
“I think your dress is the prettiest thing I’ve seen in years. Is that the style they’re wearing back east now?”
Leah frowned at her demure traveling suit. “This is the style of a traveling gown. Most day dresses and especially the evening gowns are much lovelier than this, with bright colors and heavy ruffles, especially over the bustle.”
Then she noticed the faded brown calico work dress Miriam wore. Why had she rambled on so? “But none of them are nearly so practical as the gown you’re wearing.”
