Madeline: Bride of Nebraska (American Mail-Order Bride 37) Read online

  Madeline was not certain how long she stood there, holding her new husband and stroking his hair as he let go of his grief. She truly felt horrible for both him and his nephew. She knew what it felt like to be alone in the world and it was not a pleasant feeling, to say the least.

  Eventually, Caleb managed to pull himself together some. He pulled out his handkerchief, mopped his face, apologized once again to Madeline without meeting her eyes, and then made his way upstairs to check on George.

  Madeline watched him leave the room, then sat back down to eat her dinner. The food was bland, but filling. She certainly would have used more spices in it, but perhaps Ella did not have those spices to spare.

  When she had finished her meal, she found the root cellar, put the leftover food away, and then washed the dirty dishes. She looked around the room and knew she had more to do, but it was late and she was very tired. The rest could wait until morning.

  She found a candle in the cupboard and lit it using a large splinter of wood she found in the wood box. After extinguishing the oil lamp, Madeline picked up her carpet bag and walked through the door Caleb had used earlier and found herself in a dining room. She did not expect to find a formal dining room like this here in Nebraska, but decided Caleb’s mother must have insisted on having one. She smiled at the thought of his mother being a bit feisty like herself, though she truly had no idea what her late mother-in-law had been like when she was alive.

  She found the front hall and the staircase and made her way upstairs. She peeked in the first room to her right to find Caleb sleeping in a bed with his nephew pressed up tight against him. It looked as though he had just taken off his boots and climbed into bed with the boy, fully clothed. She did not see her trunk in the room, so she continued down the hall.

  Her trunk was in the next room she looked in. The room itself consisted of a large bed, a dresser, a wardrobe, and a washstand. An oil lamp sat on the dresser and she lit the lamp with the candle to get a better look at the room. She almost wished she hadn’t. The bed had been stripped, but the bedding itself was left in a pile on the floor.

  She sighed, blew out the candle, and began to search for clean sheets. Eventually she found them on a shelf in the wardrobe. She quickly made the bed and pulled her nightgown from her carpet bag. She listened to make certain Caleb was still asleep before she undressed and got ready for bed.

  She blew out the oil lamp and climbed into bed. It might not have been how she imagined her wedding night, but she was grateful for the chance to sleep alone in peace. She was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

  Chapter 4

  Madeline awoke to the sound of a rooster crowing. She opened her eyes to find herself in a strange bed, sunlight pouring through a dirty windowpane. She stretched and rubbed her eyes, then suddenly remembered where she was.

  She jumped out of bed and dressed quickly. The room was so cold that she could see her breath. She made the bed, then slowly made her way down the hall. She peeked in at her husband and his nephew. Both were still sound asleep, so she left them and quietly made her way downstairs.

  She walked into the kitchen and took a good look around. She needed to know what supplies were available to her before she could decide what to cook for breakfast. The stove had gone cold during the night, so she got the fire going before checking the cupboard and root cellar for supplies.

  She came up from the cellar disappointed. Other than the things she had quickly placed down there after dinner the night before, the shelves were rather bare. That did not bode well for meals throughout the winter. That was when she spied the crate from Ella still sitting on the kitchen table. Hope sprung in her heart and she made her way over to it.

  She knew that the contents of the crate were a wedding gift from the reverend and his wife, but when she pulled back the empty flour sack that covered it, she knew that her new friend Ella had packed it herself. Inside the crate were jars of various spices and seasonings, small sacks of cornmeal, flour, and sugar, a loaf of bread, and some fresh butter. It wasn’t much, but she would not need to run for more supplies for a few days at least.

  Then a thought struck her. Her husband had mentioned having ranch hands. She had met two of them herself. Would she be expected to cook for them as well as her husband and his nephew?

  Madeline chewed her lip as she thought about it. She could wake Caleb and ask him directly, but he had been worn out from everything that had happened the day before. He certainly could use more sleep. Besides, she did not want to wake poor little George. The boy had been through enough and definitely needed to sleep.

  Movement from outside near the barn caught her eye, so she decided to see who might be up. If it was Hank or Walter, she would not feel afraid to ask them about the meal arrangements. A basket near the door caught her eye and she took it down from its peg. If a rooster woke her up, that meant there were chickens. If there were chickens, there would be eggs.

  She hurried outside and into the bright sunlight. She squinted a bit against the light in an attempt to see if the man near the barn was indeed Hank. It appeared to be, so she walked faster to catch him before he scurried off somewhere.

  “Morning, ma’am,” Hank said to Madeline with a tip of his hat.

  “Good morning,” she replied, crossing her arms against the cold. “Would you mind if I ask you something? I didn’t want to wake Caleb, after the day he had yesterday.”

  Hank studied her a moment, pleased that she was showing concern for Caleb. She was his wife, but they had only met about twelve hours ago. He nodded in response to her question.

  “Do…will I be expected to make breakfast for everyone on the ranch or just the main household?” She really needed to know if she would need to worry about every meal, but breakfast was her first priority.

  Hank smiled. “Nope. Cookie makes our meals in the bunkhouse. You just worry about you and Caleb…and little Georgie.” He cleared his throat softly. He was uncomfortable asking her this question, yet he needed to know. “How are Caleb and the boy doing?”

  “Still asleep, last I checked. Do you think I should wake them?” Madeline hated the uncertainty of it all, but until she and Caleb sat down and worked out a schedule, she really had no idea what would be expected of her.

  “Nah,” Hank replied. “We got things out here. Tell Caleb to take care of the boy today and I’ll handle things around the ranch.”

  “I will. Thank you, Mr…”

  “Hank. Just call me Hank, ma’am,” he said with a smile.

  Madeline smiled back. “All right, I will.” She fiddled with the basket. “Could you point me in the direction of the chicken coop?”

  Hank nodded. “It’s just behind the barn. You can’t miss it. Oh, and the milk cow needs milking yet, too. Caleb usually takes care of it first thing.” At the uncertain look on her face, Hank smiled. “Want me to take care of it?”

  Embarrassed that he thought she didn’t know how to milk a cow, Madeline shook her head. “No, I can manage. Thank you.” She watched Hank walk away and whispered to herself, “How hard could it be?”

  *****

  Caleb woke to the sound of whimpering. He opened his eyes to find himself in his old bedroom with George asleep on his shoulder. The poor boy was whimpering in his sleep. For a moment, Caleb had thought the horrible events of yesterday had been nothing but a bad dream. He sighed and slowly extricated himself from his nephew’s grasp.

  He took one look out the window and knew he had overslept. The sun was higher than it should be. He needed to find Madeline so she could watch over George while he went out to milk the cow. Poor Bessie would be waiting for him to milk her by now.

  He checked his bedroom only to find the bed already made. Was Madeline down in the kitchen already? He thought she would have been exhausted from traveling on a train for days on end.

  When he checked in the kitchen, she was nowhere to be seen. He looked around the rest of the house and grew irritated as he went. Just where in tarnatio
n was his wife? Had she left him already?

  At first the thought of her leaving irritated him even more, then a cold chill ran through him. If she had left him, she would be alone on the road. His brother’s killer was still at large and she would be alone and defenseless. What was the woman thinking?

  He stormed from the house, intent on finding her before something horrible happened to her. Just as he approached the door to the barn, it swung open slowly. Standing right there before him was his wife, with a pail of milk in one hand and a basket of eggs in the other. Strands of straw and bits of feathers were stuck in her hair at odd angles and her cheeks were flushed.

  Relief flooded through him at the sight of her safe and sound. Under normal circumstances, seeing her look like she had been rolling around in the barn and chicken coop would have made him laugh. Worry gave a sharp edge to his words, though. “Just what on God’s green earth are you doing out here?” he demanded.

  He regretted his words the moment they left his mouth, but there was nothing he could do to take them back. He watched as her face shifted from what could only be described as elation to anger. Sparks flew from her eyes, and he knew he had overstepped his bounds.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” she raged back at him, sloshing some milk from the pail as she attempted to gesture. “I’m trying to make breakfast!” She had been so pleased with herself that she had eventually managed to milk the cow and gather the eggs. Who did he think he was to shout at her like that?

  He watched her storm back to the house. Did his sweet little wife just snap back at him? After a moment’s pause, he followed her back into the house. “My brother’s killer is on the loose! You can’t just go waltzing around outside, alone and defenseless!”

  Madeline was glad she had already set the milk and eggs down on the table. If she hadn’t, she very well might have thrown them at Caleb at that moment. Her fists clenched in anger at her sides. “I did not go waltzing around! Hank was outside and I went to ask him something, for crying out loud!”

  Caleb clenched his jaw and looked at his wife through narrowed eyes. His mother had never spoken to his father like that. Who did she think she was talking to? “Stop shouting, or you’ll wake little Georgie!”

  “I’m not shouting. You are!” Truth be told, they both were raising their voices, but as far as Madeline was concerned, Caleb had started it. After wrestling with the cow for what felt like an hour and nearly getting pecked to death by crazed chickens, the man should have been grateful for the work she had done instead of being angry with her for being outside.

  “I am not shouting!” Caleb shouted angrily.

  Suddenly they could both hear the sound of George wailing in alarm upstairs. Caleb shot an angry look at his wife before he raced upstairs to calm his nephew.

  Madeline glared at him as he left. She muttered to herself and turned to the sink to wash up before making breakfast. Angry or not, they still needed to eat. After washing up, she quickly turned toward the table to begin prepping for breakfast. As she turned, feathers and straw fluttered to the floor from her hair. The sight stopped her in her tracks and doused the flames of her anger.

  She reached up and touched her hair. She could feel the bits of straw and feathers in it. She looked around for a mirror, then remembered there was one on the wash stand in her bedroom. She hurried upstairs to see how bad it was, but slowed her steps at the top. She could hear Caleb singing softly to his nephew in a deep baritone. She paused outside the door and listened for a moment before continuing to her room. It sounded as though George were calming down and attempting to sing along with his uncle.

  Madeline had to cover her mouth to stifle a giggle when she realized that Caleb was singing “Johnny Get Your Gun.” She hurried to her room so she would not be overheard. A giggle escaped her lips as soon as she walked into her room, but froze the moment she glimpsed herself in the mirror.

  She looked as though she had been in an explosion…in a barn. Bits of straw and downy feathers stood out at random angles against the darkness of her hair. She had taken care to shake her dress after she had finished milking the cow, but had not thought to check her hair. How on earth had her husband not laughed at her?

  She began the process of pulling the straw and feathers from her hair and thought back to what her husband had said. Now that she had calmed down, she realized his harsh words had come from fear more than anger. He was truly concerned that the murderer was loose and that she could have been harmed.

  She could not help but feel that she should have been more patient with him and bit her tongue. After fighting with the chickens for their eggs and then spending all that time fumbling around while trying to get the cow milked, her temper had been short, to say the least. She honestly had not given any thought to the killer still being on the loose.

  She quickly finished pulling the straw and feathers from her hair, then rebraided it to keep it out of her way as she worked in the kitchen. She made her way downstairs quietly and smiled as she passed George’s room. Caleb had a lovely singing voice. She hoped to hear more of it in the days and years to come.

  *****

  After two rounds of “Johnny Get Your Gun,” Caleb was relieved to see George give him a smile. He had no clue as to why his nephew liked that song so much, but was pleased it had calmed him down. He helped George get dressed and they made their way downstairs together, hand in hand.

  They walked into the kitchen together to find Madeline at the stove, a stack of flapjacks on a plate at her side. Three places had been set at the table, with a tin cup half full of milk at one place setting. Caleb sat George down and handed him his cup. George greedily drank it down.

  Madeline heard them enter, but waited until her last flapjack was ready to come off the frying pan before turning around to face them. It was always hard for her to admit when she was wrong, but she knew that she owed Caleb an apology. Once she had properly swallowed her pride, she picked up the flapjacks and turned toward the table.

  Both she and Caleb spoke at the same time.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said as she set the plate on the table.

  “I’m sorry about before.”

  They looked at each other and smiled. They had managed to survive their first argument and had made up before the first meal of the day. Maybe their marriage had some hope of survival after all.

  George looked from Caleb to Madeline to Caleb again, confused as to why no one was feeding him. He gave an exaggerated sigh and reached for the plate of flapjacks.

  Caleb pulled the plate out of George’s reach. “Whoa, there. We’ve gotta say grace first, buddy.”

  George pouted, looked up at Madeline, and pointed across the table to the empty place setting. “Sit,” he commanded, a serious look on his face.

  Madeline’s mouth twitched and she looked at Caleb. She was certain that laughing would not be an appropriate response to George’s bossiness, but he certainly was adorable.

  “Now, George. That’s no way to speak to a lady,” Caleb gently corrected his nephew. He then demonstrated to George how it should be done. He got up from his seat, walked around the table, and pretended to pull an imaginary chair out from the table.

  Caleb then motioned for Madeline to take her seat with a murmured, “My lady.”

  Madeline smiled broadly and sat down with an exaggerated flourish. “Why, thank you, kind sir.”

  George clapped as Caleb came back around the table and sat down. The moment Caleb took his seat, George folded his hands and bowed his head, clearly ready to say grace.

  Caleb said the blessing, then quickly handed George a flapjack. George tore into it like he hadn’t eaten in days.

  Which, when Caleb thought about it, other than a little broth Walter got him to drink yesterday, he hadn’t.

  Madeline, slightly surprised at the voracity of the little boy, blinked and looked back at Caleb. “Will this be enough to eat or should I go and make some eggs as well? I was going to, but didn’t kno
w how you liked them cooked.”

  Caleb looked at her, surprised. “I eat them however Cookie makes them,” he admitted. He loved how his mother used to make them sunny side up, but didn’t want her to go to any bother. He still felt bad for yelling at her earlier. “There’s plenty of flapjacks here. You don’t need to make anything else.”

  “If you’re sure,” Madeline replied warily. She wanted to smooth things over from their argument earlier and if cooking would do it, she would happily make him some eggs.

  Caleb nodded, then helped himself to several flapjacks. Madeline had found a bottle of maple syrup in the cupboard and placed it on the table, and he poured a generous amount over the top.

  Madeline watched his face as he took his first bite. She hoped he would like her cooking, but was worried that he might find fault with it. When he closed his eyes happily, she knew he liked the flapjacks and finally relaxed and enjoyed her meal as well.

  Partway through the meal, she remembered what Hank had asked her earlier. “Oh, Hank wanted me to tell you that he had everything under control outside. He said you should just take care of George today.”

  Caleb nodded. “Hank’s a good man. I’ll thank him later.” He paused as he remembered how Madeline had looked when he had found her outside earlier. “And I take it I should thank you for milking ol’ Bessie?”

  Madeline blushed as she remembered how she had looked after her ordeal. It was not her finest moment, but she was proud that she had finally accomplished her goal and without any help to boot. A simple nod of acknowledgement was all she could manage at the moment.

  Caleb could not help but tease his wife. “It looked as though the two of you were in a fight or something,” he said as he shoveled another bite of flapjack into his mouth.

  Madeline’s eyes flew to his as a bright red blush swept across her face. It took her a moment to realize his eyes were twinkling with merriment, but when she did, she smiled through her embarrassment. “Well, we had a bit of a tussle, but then we talked it out.”