RNWMP: Bride for Jonathan (Mail Order Mounties Book 8) Page 2

  “I don’t know, actually. I’ll tell you a secret, though.” He leaned forward as though what he was about to say was strictly confidential. “There isn’t an ugly post in all of Canada.”

  “There isn’t?”

  “Not a one. I have three brothers who are also Mounties. They’re scattered all over the place, and they write about their posts with as many flowery words as I’d ever use about the Yukon. God knew what He was doing when He made Canada.”

  “I can agree with that.” Elaine then focused on the other thing he’d said. “You have three Mountie brothers?”

  “I do. We’re practically born wearing red serge in my family. It’s all any of us wanted to do, and our sister Evelyn insisted on marrying a Mountie over anyone else.” He cleared his throat. “In fact, that’s how you came to be here.”

  “Oh?” Elaine turned a little more to face him directly. “How so?”

  “Well, when Miss Hazel decided to match Mounties up with young ladies as mail-order brides, Evelyn was one of the first to go. She now lives in Squirrel Ridge Junction with her new husband, Joel.”

  Elaine laughed. “Squirrel Ridge Junction? Where is that?”

  “British Columbia. You mean you’ve never heard of it?” he asked jokingly.

  “I can safely say that I never have.”

  “Neither had I until she went there. Then I got a glowing letter about how happy she was and how she thought everyone should be married and what a boor I was for still being single. That got me thinking about marriage and families, and how nice it would be to have a built-in friend.”

  Well, if that wasn’t the sweetest thing she’d ever heard . . . She looped her arm through his and snuggled up to his side. It was her natural impulse to do so, even though she’d never been so forward before. She had to wonder, though—was there any such thing as being too forward with one’s own husband? He certainly couldn’t be upset with her for sitting a little closer and resting her head on his shoulder, could he?

  From the way he turned and gave her a quick kiss on top of the head, no, he couldn’t be upset with her at all. In fact, she’d think he was far from it.

  Chapter Three

  Jonathan couldn’t believe his good fortune. Could this beautiful girl snuggled up to his side really be his wife? If this is what marriage was all about, why had he put it off for so long?

  “Why did you decide to become a mail-order bride?” he asked.

  “It’s kind of a long story,” she replied.

  “Well, we’ve got about two hours left to go. Is it longer than two hours?”

  She laughed. “It certainly took longer than two hours to live it, but I suppose I can tell the story more quickly than that.” She took a deep breath before plunging into her story. “I guess you could say I always knew an ordinary life wasn’t for me. I tried going to society parties and concerts and flirting with eligible young men, but everywhere I went, I felt out of place, like there wasn’t a single spot on earth where I belonged. My parents wanted me safely settled, but my rebellious nature had other ideas.”

  “You have a rebellions nature?” he asked.

  “Well, it’s not very rebellious—just enough to know when something’s not right for me.” She shook her head. “I remember one time when I was five. My nanny was trying to braid my hair, and I most certainly did not want my hair braided. I ran away for a whole hour and hid under the mulberry bush. My mother was mortified—I had come out covered in squished berries to greet the minister’s wife when she came to call.”

  Jonathan laughed. “I’m sure you were quite a sight.”

  “I really was. Looking back, it’s quite a wonder that I survived my childhood at all.”

  He would have liked to know her back then. “Go on,” he prompted when she didn’t say more. “What brought you out here?”

  “Well, after spending a few years trying to conform to what society—and my parents—expected of me, I saw a painting hanging in someone’s home. I don’t even remember whose home it was, but the painting showed the most beautiful snow-capped mountain peak I’ve ever seen, and I knew I had to visit that place for myself. I even read several books on the topic. As it turns out, that peak is in the Yukon, and that’s where Miss Hazel was sending brides. I leaped at the opportunity.” She paused. “Why didn’t you give Miss Hazel any specifics about me?”

  “I beg your pardon? What do you mean by ‘specifics’?”

  “The other men requested certain things—girls who could cook and whatnot. But you didn’t.”

  He shrugged, and it made her head bob a little bit. He hoped he hadn’t jarred her too much. “I figured that any girl who would choose to come out here and be with me could be any sort of girl she wished.”

  “Really?” She snuggled in a little more. “That’s wonderful. I think we’re going to get along well, don’t you?”

  He grinned, even though she couldn’t see his face. “I do. I have to ask, though . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “You only married me because you wanted to see the mountains?”

  She lifted her head and met his eyes. “I wanted to see the mountains, but maybe I also wanted to see a Mountie.”

  “Ah. That does clear things up.” He couldn’t help himself. He pulled the reins and brought the wagon to a halt, then gathered his bride up in his arms. “And do you like what you see?” he asked, studying her eyes.

  “I think I like it very much,” she replied, and he brought her closer for a kiss.

  He’d eaten watermelon once at a summer picnic. Her kiss tasted like watermelon and sunshine and Christmas all at the same time. Her hand came up and reached around his neck, and he grinned despite himself. Yes, sir—marriage was going to be a lot better than he’d anticipated.

  After another moment, he finally let her go, although regretfully. “We’d better keep going if we don’t want to spend the night out here,” he said. “And while that wouldn’t be terrible, there are some wild animals in the area, and I think we’d be best off inside.”

  “Oh, all right,” she said, her tone reflecting what he felt, and they continued on their way. The ride back to the cabin was turning out to be a lot more pleasant than the ride to town had been.

  ***

  “This is it,” Jonathan said, pulling the wagon up in front of a small shack. “It’s not much, but I’ve been meaning to add on to it. I was thinking about a whole separate bedroom, and maybe a larger kitchen. You’ll have to tell me what you think, though—this is your house now, and I want it to suit you.”

  Elaine wasn’t sure it suited her at all. It was much smaller than she’d imagined even on her worst days, and there was nothing growing outside—no flowers or anything. It simply had no personality. It was like a crate that had been upended and set down in the dirt and called a house.

  “We’ll work on it together,” she said, forcing her smile to be bright. A home could be rebuilt and painted until it was perfect—it didn’t matter where it started. She already had a good starting place for a husband, and that was far more important. Men were much harder to rebuild, and they would never hold still to be painted.

  “Working together sounds like a lot of fun, actually.” Jonathan opened the door and motioned for her to enter, then went back outside for her things. She was a little surprised and mildly disappointed that he hadn’t carried her over the threshold like Reginald Darlington did in her favorite romantic novel, but not everyone was Reginald Darlington, and Jonathan seemed to have plenty of romantic traits of his own.

  When she stepped inside, the first thing she noticed was how dark everything seemed. There were thick, unattractive curtains on the windows—they’d be taken out and most likely burned. A bed stood in the corner, and the kitchen area was off to the side, but there was no real separation between this space and that space. Some walls would definitely go a long way in here. And a good scrubbing. And probably a large laundry day. She turned in a circle, trying to take everything in, wanting to make a me
ntal list of all there was to do but realizing that list would be far too long for one afternoon’s worth of work. She’d take it a step at a time.

  Jonathan brought in her smaller trunk, then went back outside. A moment later, he returned with an armload of books, which he set on the table. “I don’t have a second man here to help me lift the whole trunk, so I thought I could lighten the burden a bit,” he explained, and she thought that was a brilliant idea. While he carried in books a dozen at a time, she glanced around for a bookcase, but saw nothing.

  “I wonder where I should put them,” she said on his next trip in.

  He muttered something she couldn’t quite make out before leaving again, and she had to wonder about that. He’d sounded almost surly, and that was quite a change from the young man who had pulled the wagon over and kissed her so passionately just a short time before. Had she said or done something to upset him?

  He was probably just hungry—she knew she was. A good meal would help them both. The cabin was quite dusty overall, but it looked like he’d scrubbed down the table before she came, and another look around told her that the bedroom area had also been tidied. That was a start, at least.

  She opened her small trunk and pulled out an apron, then noticed a bucket by the washbasin that had to be for water. She opened the front door and almost ran into Jonathan, his arms full of yet more books. “Where will I find water?” she asked.

  “We’re spoiled here,” he replied. “There’s a well just a few hundred yards that way. I hired some of the Kaska men to help me dig it, and we share it with the Indians.”

  “Oh, that’s a wonderful idea,” she said. “I was worried when I didn’t see a river near the cabin.”

  “There is one where we do laundry, but I’ll show that to you later.” He entered the house to set down the books, and she headed off toward the well. The ground was bumpy and rocky, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like if covered in a blanket of thick grass. Was that even possible? How could she make it happen?

  When she reached the well, she saw another person there, a young Indian woman who smiled shyly as she hoisted her bucket onto the rim of the well wall.

  “Hello. My name is Elaine,” she offered.

  The girl didn’t say anything, but she smiled again and nodded before carrying her water away. A tiny girl followed after her. Elaine almost didn’t see the child at all, she was so well concealed in the young woman’s skirts.

  Elaine watched them go, squinting in the sunshine to see if she could make out an Indian village up ahead. Nothing—just trees. How far away were their native neighbors? They couldn’t be too far if they came here for water.

  She lowered the well bucket down into the depths, brought it back up full, and dumped it into her own bucket, grunting as she did so. It was so much more difficult than it looked. Then she grabbed the handle and lifted. It was much heavier than anything she was used to carrying, but she’d have to get used to this sort of thing if she was going to be a Mountie wife in the Yukon. It would all have to be part of the adventure.

  She hadn’t made it more than a few hundred feet when Jonathan joined her and took the handle. “If I’m home and you need water, just send me,” he said. “I didn’t realize how heavy it would be for you until I saw you waddling along just now.”

  “I was not waddling,” she protested, then smiled. “All right, I was waddling, but I was giving it my best effort.”

  “You certainly were, and I appreciate that, but there’s no need if I’m home.” He carried the bucket easily, and she admired his strength. Not that she wanted the kind of muscles he had—they’d look rather odd on her, but they looked nice on him. Very nice on him, actually. So nice that she decided to change the subject so she’d stop thinking about it.

  “Thank you for bringing in my things. I thought I’d clean up a bit and make us something to eat.”

  “Miss Hazel said she trained you all to cook,” Jonathan replied, his eyes twinkling. “Would you forgive me if I said I’m really looking forward to that? I’m not a terrible cook, but I’d sure like to eat something that doesn’t taste slightly burned.”

  “Of course I’ll forgive you. That’s part of why I’m here.” She chuckled. “Miss Hazel did try to teach us all, but I’m not sure Isabelle was paying much attention. I hope Dermot is a patient man.”

  Jonathan laughed too. “He can be. I imagine they’ll have their share of struggles at the start, but I have no doubt they’ll get it ironed out.”

  They entered the cabin, and he set the bucket of water on the table where she indicated. She’d start some bread for later, then she’d put some biscuits in and mix up a quick soup or something to tide them over until she had a chance to take inventory of his supplies and come up with a menu. First, though, she made sure that her books weren’t too close to the water bucket. That would be terrible.

  “I’m going to chop some wood,” Jonathan said as he hung his jacket on a hook behind the door. “I meant to take care of that this morning, but I didn’t want to be late picking you up.”

  “All right,” she replied, glad he was going out. He was nice to have around, but she’d never worked well when someone was watching her.

  Once the door was closed, she looked around and found a large mixing bowl. She didn’t know how long it had been since it had been used, so she used some of the fresh water and washed it, then set to work.

  The stove didn’t have an oven, so she’d have to bake in a Dutch oven instead. That would be different, but she was sure she could manage it.

  With the biscuits in the Dutch oven, bread rising, and some beef simmering on the stove to make broth, she turned her attention to the rest of the kitchen. She pulled everything off the shelves and washed them, and then she replaced everything after wiping them down. That was certainly better, and she could now cook with confidence in this area.

  She wished she felt that good about the rest of the house, but that would come in time. Lots of time. And many buckets of water.

  Chapter Four

  Jonathan washed up outside, then entered the cabin and took a sniff. “Is that bread?”

  Elaine smiled from where she stood in front of the stove. “Biscuits, actually, but I do have bread rising for later.”

  He crossed the room in two strides, scooped her up, and spun her around, making her drop her spoon back into the pot she’d been stirring. “Food!” he called out as she giggled. “Real food. Mrs. Murray, I’m so glad you’ve come.” He kept his arms around her waist when he set her down. It felt so good to have her there, like she was a natural extension of himself.

  “Mrs. Murray,” she repeated after him. “I like the sound of that.”

  He looked into her eyes for a long minute and lost himself in their blue depths. If he could have ordered a wife from the mercantile’s catalogue, he would have chosen one just like this. Then he laughed to himself—he practically had ordered her from a catalogue, but he hadn’t known what to ask for. He supposed he had to see it for him to know what he wanted.

  “Are you ready to eat?” she asked.

  He could have stayed just as they were forever, his arms around her, feeling her quick breath, but his stomach growled, and he chuckled. “Yes, please.”

  She had set the table with his simple dishes and made everything look as nice as she could with the few things he had to offer. For the first time since coming to this cabin, he wished he had a tablecloth and some vases and a few other things—things a woman would like. He wanted the place to be a real home for her.

  “I met a young Indian woman out by the well,” she said as she ladled some soup into his bowl. “I wondered if you might know her name. I introduced myself, but she just smiled and left. She had a child with her, a little girl who looked about three years old.”

  “That might have been Ann,” Jonathan replied. “Was she wearing a necklace with a bear’s claw on it?”

  “Yes, she was.”

  “That was Ann, and her d
aughter’s name is Susan. Ann’s husband, Jimmy, is one of the men we’re concerned about—he keeps getting caught up in the mess between the Indians and the fur traders, and Ann’s been very upset about the whole thing.” He paused to sip his soup. “I’ll take you around and introduce you to everyone in the village tomorrow, if you like. When I told them you were coming, they were very excited to meet you.”

  “They were? I’m pleased to hear that. I want to make friends, and I want to support you in your position out here. And if there’s anything I can do for Ann, maybe even make friends with her in particular . . . How far away is the village? I couldn’t see it from the well.”

  “It’s just beyond the thick copse of trees to the west there. At night when they’ve lit their fires, you can see them through the trees. It’s really pretty—like seeing fireflies in the distance, or earthbound stars.”

  Elaine paused in taking a bite and stared at him. “That was beautiful,” she said, her voice full of wonder. “You must be a poet.”

  He dropped his gaze to his bowl. “No. Not even close.”

  “You are—you just don’t realize it. I can see that picture in my mind as clearly as anything just from your words.” When he looked back up, he saw that her eyes were aglow. “I can’t wait to share all my books with you. Do we have enough lanterns for reading? Should we get another one?” She paused. “We can get things out here, can’t we?”

  “We can order almost anything we’d ever want from the mercantile or the catalogue,” he replied, taking the opportunity to sidestep her question. “I was just thinking that I’d like to get you a tablecloth.”

  “Yes, please. I wondered . . .” She blushed, and he found that he liked the effect on her very much. “Do we have much money for household goods? I know you must be on a budget, but . . . I wondered how much we have to spend on things like food and maybe some fabric for new curtains.”

  “My salary isn’t grand, by any means, but I’m sure we can get some things to pretty the place up a bit,” he replied. “Let’s talk about it and decide what you want most, and we can save up where we need to.”