Page 21 of Conveniently Wed
She was determined to prove to her taciturn husband that she could pull her own weight and not be a burden until they got to Tuck’s Station.
Hours later, Fran was dozing over her food when an empty plate and tin mug clattered to the ground in front of her.
She startled awake, heart pounding, to see her husband stalking off away from the fire and into the night.
“Mighty good fixins, ma’am.”
Fran looked up as Matty knelt next to her and added his empty dishes to the pile.
She shouldn’t have been miffed. She’d expected very little from her paper husband, but the man could have at least praised her effort. Awful though it had been.
“Don’t lie. The ham was only half-cooked and the potatoes were burned.”
“I was trying to be nice. The food wasn’t inedible. And the bread was all right.”
She gave him a look. “The bread was baked before we left home.”
“And I did a fine job of it, too.” He smiled, but she couldn’t help looking out after the retreating back of her husband.
“He’s not very friendly, is he?” she asked. But there had been a moment when she’d been discovered in the wagon… He wasn’t always standoffish, but perhaps that was how he wanted her to see him. She just didn’t know why.
“He’ll come around. He’s mostly mad at me and Seb right now. And a little worried about getting the cattle where they need to go. I think he doesn’t quite know what to do with you.”
She shrugged, too tired to think any more about what she might do to make this trip a little more bearable for Edgar.
Her gaze fell on the dirty cast iron skillet and the pile of plates that was growing as another cowboy added his.
“I have to wash all of these, don’t I?”
Matty’s eyes had a definite twinkle. Or maybe the fire was playing tricks on her. “Somebody’s got to.”
She sighed. “Where?”
He nodded, and she followed the bob of his head to the line of dark trees against the night sky.
“The creek?”
His nod was anything but reassuring.
“There’s not anything…dangerous out there, is there?”
“Shouldn’t be. Your sister gonna help?”
“I’ve already sent her to bed. She’s exhausted.”
“Oh,sheis?”
Fran shooed off the pesky cowboy, who only chuckled as he went. She gathered the rest of the cowboys’ plates and utensils and piled them all in the large skillet. Then she flung a towel over her shoulder and tossed a small chunk of soap on top of the whole heap and began lugging it toward the dark silhouette of the trees.
By the time her eyes adjusted to the darkness that made the firelight seem overly bright, she’d stumbled on a large tree root, knocked her elbow into a thick tree trunk, and submerged one booted foot completely in the icy-cold creek.
But at least she’d held on to the pan and all the dishes.
With the bottom of her skirt already drenched, she figured she couldn’t do much worse by kneeling on the creek bank to wash the dishes.
The farther she’d gone from the campsite, the quieter it had gotten. Now all she could hear was the rustle of leaves in the night breeze and her own heartbeat. She realized she was holding her breath and tried to force her shoulders down. Surely the men wouldn’t have let her come out here if it was dangerous.
But she couldn’t quite believe it, and so she rushed to scrub the dishes clean as quickly as she could.
