Chapter 4

4

B ruce woke the next morning with a lump the size of a bushel basket filling his insides. He and Stella had agreed to marry this morning. She'd said the sooner they got his aunt and the children away from those who moaned in the sickrooms, the better for all involved.

He hadn't spoken to his aunt last night, and as soon as he heard sounds in the house, he went to seek entrance. "How is my aunt?" he asked Mrs. Kinsley, who looked weary from taking care of sick people much of the night.

"She's fine. I'm about to take her breakfast."

"Let me." He carried the tray into the parlor.

Aunt Mary sat with pillows behind her back.

"Are you comfortable?" She looked marginally better than she had yesterday.

"For the most part."

He adjusted the tray over her knees and sat on the wooden chair beside her. He waited while she started on the bowl of oatmeal.

"Stella and I have agreed to get married."

His aunt stared at him. "Are you doing this, so I won't have to travel?"

He wouldn't admit it. "It's mutually beneficial."

"I see. And you're ready to embark on a married life after less than one day of acquaintance?"

"It will be more of a business deal than a marriage."

"A what?"

"We all get a home. That's what matters."

Aunt Mary eyed him a long moment. He didn't blink, nor shift away from her gaze.

"Well, if you're willing to believe that, then fine." She returned to her breakfast, and he pulled a quiet breath into his lungs. At least she hadn't offered any argument.

"We're getting married this morning."

She sipped her tea before she answered. "And what's the hurry?"

"No need to delay. Might as well get you comfortably settled."

"I must say, that sounds good. I feel like I'm putting these people out, sleeping on their sofa."

He waited, half expecting Aunt Mary to offer more of an argument against the marriage. When he realized she didn't intend to, he spoke. "We'll come in here for the ceremony so you can be one of the witnesses." He and Stella had discussed the details, and neither could see any reason to delay. She was going to tell the children this morning. How would they feel about this?

The door flew open, and Donny rushed in, Blossom at his heels. "You're gonna marry my ma, and we're all going to live at the farm." He yelled the news.

Blossom sidled up to him and patted his elbow. "You come wif us?"

"Yes and yes," he said to them.

Stella stood in the doorway. She watched the children and smiled.

"They seem to like the idea," he said.

"They're anxious to go home."

Blossom had moved closer to Aunt Mary. "You come too?"

Aunt Mary cupped her hand over the child's head. "Yes, I am. Is that okay?"

"That good. You need to come."

Need? What an odd thing to say, but then, the girl was young. Who knows what she meant?

"Have you told the preacher?" he asked Stella.

"Not yet."

"Let's do it together." He might have imagined she looked relieved, even pleased, by his offer. He followed her down the hall to the kitchen where the preacher sat at the table. He glanced up at their side-by-side approach. His expression grew curious.

"We've decided to take your advice and get married," Bruce said.

The preacher grinned. "I thought you might see it as beneficial. When do you want to have the ceremony?"

"This morning," Stella said. "In the parlor, so Aunt Mary can be part of it." Mrs. Kinsley came in as Stella was speaking. "Mrs. Kinsley, we'd like you to be our other witness."

"Oh my. A wedding. I don't have anything special prepared. And the girls will want to be here."

"We aren't waiting," Stella said. "You yourself said the children and Miss Rivers should be away from this infection."

Bruce admired Stella's firmness. Seemed once she took hold of an idea, she stayed the course. He hoped that was so. For all their sakes.

"So, I did, and so they should. Can we have breakfast first?"

Stella hurried to the stove to assist in preparing the food. "I hate to leave you without help."

"Now don't you worry. This is what's right for you, and that's all that matters. Besides, Mrs. Andrews has returned. I'll ask if I can hire one of the girls."

A robust-looking woman joined them, flanked by two tall, thin girls. Bruce was introduced to Mrs. Andrews and her two daughters—Betsy and Callie—who looked enough alike to be twins.

They gathered around the table. The preacher prayed, adding gratitude for the upcoming wedding.

The Andrews girls waited for the amen then looked around the table.

"A wedding?" one said.

"Whose?" the other added.

"Girls, it isn't our business," their mother whispered.

"Stella and Bruce," Mrs. Kinsley said. "As soon as breakfast is done."

Matching dark eyes about popped from the Andrews girls. Their mother nudged them, and they turned their attention to the food before them.

The rest of the meal passed in silence, as if everyone needed time to digest the news of a sudden wedding.

As soon as the meal was over, they made their way to the front room. Mrs. Andrews and her girls followed.

With Aunt Mary on one side of them and Mrs. Kinsley on the other, they faced the preacher. Donny pressed to his mother's knees. Blossom squeezed in between Bruce and Stella.

"Dearly beloved," the preacher began. Seconds later, he had them repeat their vows. "From this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part."

Bruce spoke the words. Promised himself he would live up to them to the best of his ability. And prayed Stella would find that satisfactory. From somewhere an accusing voice mocked him. Who are you to expect she'll see you as enough? A little orphan boy from a wandering family. Who knows what sort of stock you've come from?

He recognized the words as those thrust at him by Louella when she realized he would no longer court her. They carried just enough truth to bother him.

But the only acceptance he expected from this union was care for his aunt and a family for her. In exchange he would work the farm and provide them all with a permanent home.

"You may kiss your bride."

The preacher's words slammed through him. He should have explained it wasn't that sort of a marriage. Would Stella be offended if he kissed her? Or offended if he didn't, giving all these witnesses reason to judge their agreement?

"Kiss her," Aunt Mary said.

He caught Stella's shoulders and leaned in. She turned her head, so his kiss landed on her cheek. That's as it should be. Their marriage was solely for appearance's sake.

The preacher spoke a benediction, and there followed a flurry of activity. Stella carried two bags downstairs and out to the wagon.

"Is there more to bring?" Bruce asked.

"That's all there is." Seeing the surprise on his face, she added, "We don't need much."

He stowed the bags. She climbed into the back of the wagon to help prepare a bed for his aunt. Their hands brushed as they smoothed a quilt. She jerked away and sat back on her heels.

He leaned back too. He felt a strangeness at the contact. A sudden warmth. A rush of unexpected awareness. "We'll get used to each other."

She nodded. "I expect we shall."

They finished spreading the quilts, but he noticed she was careful not to touch him again.

It was only because they were strangers about to embark on a journey together, he told himself, not because of who he was.

Would he ever truly forget the sting of being found begging on the streets?

I am no longer that boy , he reassured himself. In fact, he was now a homesteader. He grinned at the knowledge.

With the preacher's help, he carried Aunt Mary to the back of the wagon, aware that every movement brought more pain.

The children stood behind the seat, eager to be on their way.

He assisted Stella up, feeling her tremble at his touch.

And then they were ready to leave. The preacher and his wife waved goodbye. Mrs. Andrews and her daughters watched from the window.

"Which way?" he asked as they reached the street.

"To Main Street. I'll need to get supplies."

"Of course. I have basics in the wagon, but we'll likely need more."

They pulled up in front of White's General Store. He helped Stella down. He'd expected Stella to rush in and get what she needed. Instead, she stared at the store.

"Is there something wrong?" He could see no cause for concern.

"I'm trying to decide what to tell them."

"You mean about us?"

She nodded, her gaze remaining on the store.

"Here, let's go in together, and you can introduce me as your husband." He crooked his arm toward her.

"They're going to be curious. How do I explain how I met you?"

"Do you need to?"

The stiffness left her spine. "I suppose I don't." She rested her hand on his arm, and they went inside.

A man Bruce took to be somewhat older than him looked up. "Mrs. Norwood." He took in Bruce and looked at the way Stella held Bruce's arm. His handlebar moustache twitched.

Stella drew Bruce to the counter. "Norm, I'd like you to meet my husband, Bruce Reynolds. Bruce, this is Norm White, owner of this fine establishment."

A young lady skidded to a halt beside the owner, her eyes wide.

"And this is his sister-in-law, Lisa Walton. Lisa, I'd like you to meet my husband."

Miss Lisa laughed and clapped her hands. "Caught yourself a man. Good for you."

Bruce chuckled even though the comment made him feel like a fish dangling from a line.

Norm cleared his throat. "What can I do for you?"

"We're on our way to the farm and need supplies." Stella listed off a number of things, and the storekeeper hurried to fill her order while his sister-in-law pretended to be busy wiping the counter as an excuse for studying Bruce and Stella.

The order was soon ready. Bruce handed over the necessary funds, feeling Stella's resistance. He smiled at her, silently warning her not to fuss.

He carried the box of supplies out to the wagon and stowed it. He again helped Stella to the seat, and they drove away. He let out a gusty breath. "I felt like a bug being studied under glass."

Stella chuckled. "Can't blame anyone for a large dose of curiosity." She leaned close. "I could pay for the things I ordered."

"Stella, you and I are now man and wife and as such, I intend to pay for what we need as a family. You can save your money to buy things for yourself and the children as you desire."

She held his gaze for a moment then nodded. "Very well."

"Which direction?" It would be nice to be out on the farm, getting everyone settled and easing into this new life.

"To the west." He drove slowly, knowing each bump would send a jolt of pain through Aunt Mary's leg.

Donny pressed to his back, smelling of soap, the sausage they'd had for breakfast, and a unique scent Bruce thought was little boy smell. He liked it.

"We're going home." Donny repeated the words over and over, almost singing them. He began pointing out familiar landmarks.

"Pa showed me an owl's nest over there. He lifted me up to look into the nest and laughed so hard he had to bend over 'cause I screamed when I saw the baby owls. They's all beaks and sharp claws." He held up his hands with curled fingers to illustrate.

"Pa said the prettiest wild flowers were right over there."

Donny's enthusiasm convinced Bruce he'd done the right thing in entering into a marriage with Stella. "Do you want to stop and get some flowers for your mama?"

"Oh, that's not necessary." It was the first words Stella had spoken since they left town.

"Mama, you used to like flowers," Donny said.

"I still do."

Bruce stopped the wagon. "Aunt Mary, we're going to pick some flowers."

"I don't mind not bouncing for a few minutes."

Bruce jumped down and lifted both kids to the ground. He looked up at Stella.

"I'll wait here." Did her voice seem tight? Was it excitement about returning home, or regret over this marriage? Or one of a hundred other possibilities that lay ahead of him like little unexpected puddles to land in?

Well, they were in it for keeps, so it was too late for second thoughts.

He joined the children. Pink-headed flowers, yellow star-petaled flowers, tall purple stalks, and tiny bluebell-shaped ones grew among the feathery-headed grass. He helped the children pick a bouquet. He gathered one himself. They returned to the wagon. The children gave their bouquets to Stella. He handed his to Aunt Mary.

"Thank you," his aunt murmured. "How much farther do we need to go?"

Stella answered. "We're halfway. Are you comfortable?"

"I'll be fine."

He heard the strain in her voice. Rushing would only bring her more pain, so he kept the horses to a slow gait as they continued on their way.

"Look. See that hill?" Donny pointed. "Pa called it the Big Nose Hill. He said it looked like an old man's nose."

Bruce laughed. "It does look like a nose. Your pa sounds like a very nice man."

Donny leaned back. Bruce glanced over his shoulder. Tears glistened in the boy's eyes. Blossom caught his hand, her face full of sympathy.

Bruce's throat tightened. Had he said something wrong?

Stella drew Donny to her side. "Son, it's okay to miss your papa." She blinked back her own tears. Their lives had been turned upside down and sideways. First, by Frank's death and then by the illness that had almost claimed all three of them. Marrying Bruce would enable them to return home, but it was one more big adjustment for them all.

She concentrated on her reason for being in this situation. So they could have permanency. Her reasons were valid. They would all feel better when they got home and could get back to some sort of normal.

Donny choked back a sob. "Would he be sad that he—" He tipped his head toward Bruce. "Is taking us home?"

Stella had considered the question. Would Frank mind that she had remarried? The answer was easy. "Papa would say we must do what is necessary."

"I guess so."

She held her son a moment longer then he straightened and strained forward. "I can see it. I can see the farm." He jumped up and down. "See, Mr. Reynolds. There it is."

Bruce chuckled. "I see it. You are about to reach home, Mrs. Reynolds."

Mrs. Rey—? Oh, he meant her. She was now Mrs. Reynolds. She tried not to think that it was both strange and unwelcome, changing who she was.

Bruce continued. "Have you given any thought to what the children should call me? I don't care to be addressed as Mr. Reynolds day in and day out."

Of course, she hadn't given it any thought. She'd agreed to marriage because it enabled her to return home. It promised, at the very least, a hired man she could afford. And if he left, she would stay. She would not be dragged about as her father had done to her mother. But things were changing too fast. First, being called Mrs. Reynolds and now a way for the children to address him. Did he expect them to call him papa? Wheel turn by wheel turn, she was being sucked into a life she hadn't planned, hadn't even had time to think about.

"Would you object to them calling me Uncle Bruce?"

His voice broke into her troubled thoughts. Uncle? Her breath eased out of her tense lungs. "That would be acceptable." Hopefully he didn't notice the way her words rushed out, driven by her relief at his suggestion.

"Uncle Bruce," Donny said. "There's the turnoff."

Stella curled her hands into knuckle-popping bunches. She'd not been back to the farm since Flora and Kade had taken her more than half dead to the Kinsleys. The low barn still stood. Had she expected it to disappear? The corrals were empty. The chicken yard overgrown. Kade had taken her livestock to his farm to care for it.

Bruce pulled to a halt in front of the house.

Stella climbed down before he could make his way around to help her. She ran to the door and flung it open. Her heart overflowed with joy, and she laughed. "It's so clean. Flora has been looking after it."

Bruce stood behind her. "Flora?"

"She's one of the Kinsley girls. Remember, I told you she and her husband Kade rescued me. They live further along the trail. They have my livestock."

Bruce grinned at her. "I can see you're glad to be home."

"I can't deny it." She laughed again, out of pure pleasure. "My home." She sobered. "Your home too." She couldn't forget that. "And Aunt Mary's. Let's get a place ready for her." She headed for the middle bedroom then stopped. "She won't want to be shut up in her room all day long." There was nothing in the small living area that would be comfortable for her.

"She might be glad of a few hours to rest after the ride out here."

"Of course. I'll prepare the room." The bed was made up. It had been where she and Frank slept. After his death, she had chosen to sleep in the third room, which would now become Bruce's room. She moved a table closer to the bed so Aunt Mary could reach things without moving. She glanced around. Frank had always liked an easy chair in the room. An idea grew.

Stella turned to Bruce. "We could move that chair out to the other room and make a stool for her leg."

"Good idea." Before she could offer to help, he grasped the arms and shuffled it from the room. "Where do you want it?"

"Here." She indicated a place which would put Aunt Mary out of the way of traffic. The last thing Stella wanted was the children bumping into her. But it was a spot that would enable her to be part of the activities of the home.

As if on cue, the children ran inside. "The cats are gone," Donny yelled.

"I expect Flora and Kade took them to their place."

"Are we getting them back?"

Stella was about to say they would when she realized she had to now confer with Bruce before she would make a decision. It would take getting used to. "It depends on Uncle Bruce."

He blinked. "Me?" He shrugged. "A farm needs cats. Kids need kittens."

The children raced back outside.

Bruce waited until they were away from the door. "Stella, I don't object to you making decisions." His eyes turned the color of night.

She held his gaze, not wanting him to guess how uncertain and unsettled she felt. "My pa made all the decisions." The words stumbled from her mouth.

"Did your husband too?"

"Frank? We had a division of labor, as he called it. He ran the farm. I took care of the children and the house."

"Sounds like living separate lives."

She'd sometimes thought the same thing. Frank didn't think it necessary for her to concern herself with outside things apart from the garden and chickens. "It worked."

He nodded. "Let's get Aunt Mary into bed, then we'll discuss how we are going to handle our shared lives."

He carried his aunt in, and they got her settled.

"I'll bring tea," Stella said, hoping it would provide an excuse for delaying that talk Bruce had in mind. Her mind had jittered from one thing to another since his announcement. How did he plan to run things? She should have thought to ask before she said I do. Now she was trapped.

"I'll rest for now, if you don't mind." Aunt Mary's face was drawn.

"Do you want more laudanum?" Stella asked.

"I wouldn't mind."

Stella gave her a dose, and then they left her. She pulled the door closed and then stalled, unable to face what this new life might entail.

She'd saved her homestead. That was what mattered.

Except she knew it wasn't. What if she had jumped from the frying pan into the fire, all for the sake of returning to her home?