Mail Order Bride Margaret (Montana Destiny Brides, Book 1) Page 8
Ned appeared on the steps of his own house, his hat in hand, waiting for someone to answer the door. He was just about to knock again when the door opened only a crack and a single eye peered out from the space.
“Oh Ned, thank goodness it’s you!” Clara cried, throwing the door open just wide enough to slip out. She pulled it shut and threw herself into his outstretched arms. “I’m at my wits’ end with that poor girl! She’s beside herself with shame and grief, and nothing I say does any good towards cheering her up.”
“She’s crying? Why in the world is she the one crying? I’m over at O’Bryan’s place trying to talk him out of packing up and leaving town in the middle of the night!”
“Whatever would he do a thing like that for?” Clara demanded, stamping her foot indignantly. “After dragging this girl all the way out here, he’d take off and leave her? That scoundrel!”
“That’s the rub of it! He thinks he is a scoundrel! He’s up in the barn, throwing himself into his chores, muttering about how he’s half-violated poor Miss McGreggor, and how she’ll never speak to him again after what he’s done!” Ned stopped and took a breath. “Now start over... why’s she the one crying?”
“Well, I guess you’ve already heard what happened here… you know, the bath… the visitor,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Well the poor girl’s got it in her head that Mr. O’Bryan will think she’s got loose morals, all because she had the poor judgment to take a bath after riding across the entire country on a train for the past few weeks. I’ve tried to tell her no one in the whole territory could blame her for washing, but she seems to think that because she didn’t bathe under the cover of darkness inside a locked room somewhere, she’s just plain trashy.”
“You’re having me on!” Ned replied, his face breaking out in a wide grin before he finally gave in to laughter. “O’Bryan sent me out here to beg her forgiveness! He thinks he’s the one with the loose morals, and that Miss McGreggor must think he’s some kind of vagrant for walking back behind the house and catching her in the bath!”
“What? Why, she thinks no such thing! She’s thinking too highly of him, if you ask me. I mean, he’s got to be at least some part vagrant if he’s sneaking onto other people’s farms and poking around where he doesn’t belong!” Clara said sternly, but too soon she started laughing too. “Oh Ned, these poor children! I’m so grateful to the Lord above that you and met as fully-grown people. I couldn’t imagine doing what they’re doing, leaving home the way they’ve done, meeting another person through a farm journal…”
“Well, it’s how you and I met, dear!” Ned protested before nodding his head thoughtfully. “But I know what you mean. I’ve been a bachelor all this time and I won’t lie to you, it’s been an adjustment these past two months to have someone else in the house. Now don’t go giving me that look, missy! You know I meant that kindly! I’m glad we’ve found each other as well.”
“You’d better be!” Clara teased. “Now sit right there on that bench and let me try to fetch Miss McGreggor before she drowns in her own tears.”
“I heard every word,” Margaret said, throwing open the door. “’Tis true then? Mr. O’Bryan doesn’t think less of me?”
“No, ma’am! Why, the poor boy’s pining away at this very minute, I bet,” Ned replied.
“Oh, I sincerely doubt that.” Margaret crossed her arms in front of her and looked skeptical.
“What? Why would you think it’s not true?” Clara asked, torn between defending the young lady and standing up for the husband who’d just been practically called out for fibbing. Margaret pointed.
“Because here comes Mr. O’Bryan now.”
The three of them watched as Declan rode down over the ridge and took the cart path that ran to the Jacksons’ house. He struggled to meet Margaret’s gaze, certain that Ned had been delayed for trying to convince her.
“See there? I told you the boy’s pining. He couldn’t even wait for me to get back to his place with word that you’d be willing to forgive him. You do forgive him, don’t you, miss?” Ned grabbed her hand in his desperately. “Please say you forgive him. I can’t go back to that house with him if he’s going to be sore over losing you.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Mr. Jackson,” Margaret answered happily, trying not to cry again as she raced down the steps and took off across the stretch of yard. Clara shot her husband a look and shook her head slightly, glad all over again that she wasn’t twenty years old and in love.
“Mr. O’Bryan!” Margaret called out happily. “Declan, I mean. I’m so glad you came.”
“As am I… Mags,” he answered, remembering what she’d said about her nickname and how only those who loved her best called her that. He slowed his horse and climbed down from the saddle, but kept a respectful distance. “I’m so sorry about this morning, I had no idea you’d be… I was only trying to… I’m sorry, there’s no excuse.”
It was Margaret who came closer. “No, you have nothing to apologize for! ‘Tis I who should be sorry for not being so modest. My, what you must have thought of me. And when I learned you were the forgiving sort, it made my heart so happy!”
They chatted happily while Ned and Clara watched from the porch, seated on the bench and smiling at the young people. Ned reached over and took Clara’s hand, grateful to have found a wife of his own after all this time.
“If my memory serves,” Ned called out when he finally stood up, “you all are supposed to be going for a walk. What say we pack up a few vittles and head out to the creek?”
“That suits me fine!” Clara answered eagerly, jumping up from her seat and waving at the young couple. “I’ve got a new pan of cornbread I made this morning, some salted smoked pork laid out on the sideboard, and a cobbler that Miss McGreggor showed me how to bake from the peaches on the tree out back. I’ll just be a minute, and then we can strike out for that walk.”
They set out in only a few minutes’ time, Declan and Margaret walking ahead with Ned and Clara bringing up the rear. The members of both couples talked pleasantly to one another, carefree and idle.
“So answer me truly, Declan,” Margaret began after looking over her shoulder to see that she wasn’t overheard, “were you not vexed with me for being so bold this morning? Because I couldn’t bear it if you thought any less of me.”
“Not at all, Mags. You had no way of knowing I’d even be there, certainly not in the morning before the proper time to call on someone.”
“What do you know of the manners surrounding calling on ladies, hmm?” she teased, masking her surprise that Declan knew the most stringent rules for paying a visit.
“Ah, but I’m a man of mystery, Mags. The things I know, the things I’ve learned and seen… they’re hair-raising!” he joked back. “But to be honest, ‘twas my fault entirely. And I’m glad that you were able to look past my bad manners and still speak to me.”
Margaret was silent for a moment, struck by a sudden thought. It had been eating at her all day, and now she could finally give voice to why. She stopped suddenly, and turned to stand before Declan.
“I’ve made up my mind,” she announced, her jaw set firmly with a determined look in her eye. “I want to marry you. As soon as I can.”
“What’s that? What’s brought this on? I thought it would be right to court first, to get to know one another. That’s what Mr. Jackson told me that…”
“I know, and Mrs. Jackson also cautioned me that we should get to know one another, to give it time and hope for love. But I know that today was the most awful day of my life. I spent the entire day churning inside over the fear that you’d not want me. It was naw just fear for my livelihood or fear that I’d be scorned and sent home again… it was a genuine fear that I might not get to know you better, nor to become your wife. That sounds as close to love as anything I’ve e’er known, if you ask me.”
Declan was quiet, silent for so long that Margaret began to fear she’d overstepped some invisible boundary between them. But wasn’
t that why she’d come? Why else had he brought her to Montana if not to be his wife?
She searched his face for an answer, but found only a blank response. Before either of them knew what she was doing, she pushed past him and ran at breakneck speed towards the Jacksons’ cabin. Ned and Clara looked up as Margaret raced by and Clara finally managed to call out to her, but it was too late.
Chapter Nine