Chapter 9

9

A s 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."

She tried to think of another nice comment to make about Miriam's dress— gown was really too strong of a word for the woebegone piece of material. Its length was almost too short, both in the skirt and sleeves, even for Miriam's petite body.

She didn't seem embarrassed, though, and waved off Leah's comment. "This ol' thing has seen better days for sure. I need to make a new one, just haven't found the time to go all the way to Butte for new calico."

Leah was saved a response by the thump of boots on the porch and the light squeak of the front door. Ol' Mose shuffled in, followed by a true, honest-to-goodness mountain man. He turned to shut the door, then hung his hat on the wall. Something about him struck her as familiar. His profile showed him to be a bit younger than the mountain men she'd imagined. He had a full beard and wavy brown hair that just covered his neck.

Then he turned toward them, and Leah saw those deep emerald eyes. Her heart leaped.

He was the man from the ferry, when she'd first arrived in St. Louis.

Butterflies flipped in her middle as she looked again into his green gaze. Those eyes were an even deeper shade than Miriam's, and the long green work shirt he wore accented them perfectly.

He was taller than she remembered. Next to Ol' Mose, he looked like a giant. But he didn't carry himself hunched over like most tall men she'd seen. He stood straight and confident in his own masculine skin.

There she was.

Was this a vision? Or was the woman from St. Louis actually sitting at his kitchen table? If he hadn't lost his marbles, then how did she get here?

She sat poised and elegant, with a little hat perched on her head that would do nothing to protect her from the sun. Just like she'd come out of a New York City parlor room. And she was looking at him as if he had two heads and three arms.

"Gideon," his baby sister piped up from the cook stove where she stirred something in the big pot, "I'd like you to meet Leah."

He nodded a greeting in the general direction of the woman, and turned to hang his leather hat on the peg behind the door.

"Leah, this is my big brother Gideon."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bryant."

Now there's something he hadn't been called in a month of Sundays…Mr. Bryant. Especially not in a voice that reminded him of the lullabies Ma used to sing when Miriam was a babe. Just then, his traitor dog Drifter strolled right up to the lady, sniffed her outstretched hand, then wagged his tail wildly as she rubbed the sweet spot behind his ear. Gideon knew what that dazed look on the dog's face meant. He'd fallen in love.

Gideon tried to keep his "harrumph" to himself, but by the warning look on Miriam's face, it must have slipped out. Moving toward the shelf to grab a bowl, he motioned for Ol' Mose to do the same. He stepped toward the stove and filled his dish almost to the brim with beef stew, and was about to turn toward his usual place at the table, when Miriam put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Gideon," her voice was low, urgent. "Leah is the one who responded to Abel's advertisement. She sent the telegram."

He froze, trying to make sense of what his sister had just said. "But…I sent a message telling her not to come." Of all the nerve. She must be desperate for sure. He'd warned Abel not to place that silly ad.

The sadness was stronger in Miriam's eyes than it had been the last few weeks. "She didn't receive your message." Then the sadness was joined by a glimmer of hope. "I want her to stay, though, Gideon. Can she stay?"

If he said what he wanted to, it would crush his baby sister. Instead, he brushed her off with, "I'll think about it."

Leah sat silently, eating occasional bites of the watered-down stew. Her mind was too busy to join the conversation volleying back and forth between Miriam and Ol' Mose.

Now what? This had been her one real plan. Even though she'd thought to find a job in Butte City in case the marriage with Abel Bryant didn't work out, deep down she'd really thought it would work. God had clearly opened the doors for her to come here. Why would He bring her to this obvious dead end?

She cautiously glanced at the older brother while the others were enamored with one of Ol' Mose's stories. Did he remember her, too? His face hadn't shown any recognition, just shock, partially concealed by the thick brown curls covering the lower half.

What did he look like under that thick beard? Was he handsome as his strong cheekbones suggested? That kind of thinking would get her nowhere at this point.

She dipped her spoon into the bowl again and pulled out a chunk of meat. The soup was definitely not the best she'd eaten, but better than nothing. It wasn't even as good as Mose's campfire cooking, which had been surprisingly flavorful considering the limited supplies he used. She lifted the spoon to her mouth. This bit of meat was the toughest bite yet.

She forced her mind back to what she should do next. She had no choice at this point but to continue on to Butte. Maybe there would be work for her there, or maybe she would head back to Helena or Fort Benton.

Ol' Mose had mentioned he would likely stay the night in the Bryant's barn, since it was still a few hours to Butte. Maybe they wouldn't mind if she stayed out there, as well. Or perhaps it was possible they might have an extra room with a real bed? That might be too much to hope.

Leah glanced at Miriam, her green eyes glowing as she hung on the old trapper's every word. Something tugged in her chest. Even though she really didn't know her, she would miss this young woman.

After dinner, Leah helped Miriam wipe out the dishes, a task she'd done for Ol' Mose while they were on the trail. This was her best opportunity to pose the question she'd been contemplating. "Miriam, I think Ol' Mose said he usually stays the night in your barn when he comes through here?"

"Yep, we try every time to put him up in the house in one of the extra beds, but he won't hear of it. Says he can't sleep on a soft mattress."

Leah loved the way Miriam's eyes sparkled when she talked. She seemed to have a zest for life. Unlike her stoic, silent brother.

"Would it be all right if I sleep in the barn too? I'll be leaving with him in the morning, of course."

Leah watched Miriam for a response. The girl's eyes flared and she rose to her full height, which was still a half-head shorter than Leah.

"Absolutely not." Miriam dropped the tin dish and rag on the counter, and placed a fist on each hip.

"First of all, you will not sleep in the barn. You'll sleep in our spare bedroom like any other guest. And second, there's no way I'm letting you leave after just one night. I haven't had a woman's company in years, and I plan to keep you as long as possible." Her shoulders sagged a bit, and her smile returned. "You need to stay a few days, at least, until we figure things out. You came here at Abel's request, and he'd turn over in his grave if he knew we threw ya out."

Leah couldn't help but love the fiery little magpie in front of her. She reached for Miriam's nearest hand and gave it a squeeze. "You're a kind soul, Miriam Bryant. Thank you."