High Plains Wife

“Y ou blew it, brother,” Will commented from the back seat. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day when the perfect son, Nicholas Gray, would make a mistake of this magnitude.”

“You think I should have went with Mrs. Gunderson?” Try as he might, Nick would never understand his younger brother. He gave the reins a snap when the horses slowed on the busy main street.

“It isn’t about the laundry, man. The woman thought you were going to ask her to the dance.”

“Mariah? Don’t be ridiculous.” Mariah was a practical woman. Sensible. She wasn’t given to romantic foolishness, and he knew that from firsthand experience. “Mariah wouldn’t have me if I begged her.”

“I wouldn’t be so danged sure. You didn’t see the big, bright moon eyes she was giving you?”

All he’d noticed was the way she’d been standoffish, leaning against the door, more beautiful than the day they’d met. “Moon eyes? Mariah?” The sky had a better chance of falling to earth.

“I’m telling the God’s truth.”

“Is that so? Then why hasn’t a lightning bolt struck the back seat of my buggy?”

“It isn’t gonna. I mean it. You were bumbling around saying things like ‘I kept thinking about you’ and ‘You look pretty.’ What was she bound to think?”

Maybe Will did have a point. But this was Mariah they were talking about. “She wants to be a spinster. She tells anyone who asks.”

“When a man tells a woman that he’s been thinking about her and shows up at her place right before the big town happenings, she expects an invitation to the dance. Heck, brother, you even had me thinking you were gonna ask her.”

The reins slipped between Nick’s fingers. No. How could it be? Mariah hadn’t wanted him ten years ago, at least her father hadn’t. In the years that passed, she hadn’t so much as given him a polite greeting in public. She’d just march past him on the street as if he didn’t exist. As if he were dead and buried to her.

No, Will couldn’t be right.

The schoolhouse came into sight, so he reined in the horses and parked the surrey. Folks were everywhere. His neighbor called out a greeting across the busy crowd. Nick waved back, taking stock.

Looked like the ranchers were gathering in the shade, smoking and discussing wheat prices. They’d fallen again. Not good news for the local ranchers. He set the brake before climbing to the ground. Headed toward the grounds with his brother in tow.

A pretty young woman cut in front of them, carrying a wrapped platter balanced just so, and damned if Will didn’t look his fill as she sauntered up to the schoolhouse steps.

Nick knew trouble when he saw it. “You behave yourself with the ladies. No kisses in the moonlight. I don’t want some angry papa coming after you with a shotgun.”

“Aw, it ain’t my fault. I sometimes get carried away by a woman’s beauty and lose all sense. You’re a man. You’ve got to know how that is.”

Only too well. “It’s called willpower. Use it. That’s my advice.”

“With that outlook, you’re never going to find a new wife.”

Nick ignored the jesting. He was no fool. He wasn’t going to get trapped into marriage a second time. He’d keep his male needs under steely control. If he chose to wed again he’d choose a woman using logic and not his…

Mariah Scott caught his eye. Could anyone explain to him why his gaze shot straight to her? There had to be fifty women milling around, carrying baskets and platters from their wagons to the schoolhouse. Why couldn’t he notice one of them? Why didn’t his gaze stray to their bosoms?

He kept on walking. The other ranchers had gathered near to a keg of homemade ale that smelled like heaven on the breeze.

“Been waitin’ for you, Gray.” Al Ludgrin thrust a foaming tankard in Nick’s direction.

“Just what I need.” No truer words had ever been spoken. Nodding in greeting to the other ranchers, young and old, he took a sip and noticed Mariah again.

She was climbing down from her wagon, dressed all in black. The high proud curve of her bosom sure did look fine. Desire stirred in him. No doubt about it—she was surely a finely made woman, hard and tough, true, but soft where it mattered.

Alone, she tethered her ox. Alone, she lifted two heavy-looking baskets from the floor of her small wagon. Had she always looked that sad?

He didn’t know, but it was on her face plain enough for anyone to see. The straight line of her mouth, down-turned in the corners. The town’s formidable spinster wove her way through the crowd of children playing, a tall and slim shadow touched by the last rays of the setting sun.

Nick took a long pull from the tankard. The ale was bracing, just shy of bitter, but not strong enough to make him forget the troubled feeling churning in his guts.

Mariah squeezed between the table rows in the crowded schoolhouse when she saw Rayna Ludgrin bringing a fresh pot of coffee. Finally! They were sending in the reinforcements. She was dead on her feet and could use a few minutes’ break.

“Don’t get too hopeful,” Rayna told her, speaking loud to be heard over the merry din. “They need you to keep serving. Careful, the handle’s hot.”

It sure was. Mariah’s fingers felt seared in spite of the thick pad as she took possession of the coffeepot. “We never expected such a good showing.”

“There isn’t an empty seat,” Rayna agreed. “So, are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“What Nick Gray had to say to you. I noticed he hasn’t taken his eyes off you all evening. Does that mean he asked you to the dance?”

“Why would he? We’re not even friends.” Mariah tucked that piece of disappointment away and filled an empty cup of coffee for old Mr. Dayton.

“Then what did he come for?” Rayna sounded bewildered.

They were far from being alone and Mariah wasn’t about to let anyone overhear her conversation and make the mistaken assumption that she was mooning after Nick Gray. “I’ve taken on his laundry, that’s what. I didn’t want to do it, considering the man and how I feel about him, but business is business.”

“Mariah, I didn’t know you still disliked him so strongly.” Rayna winced. “I never would have teased you about him. I’m sorry.”

“No apology necessary.” Hiding her feelings, Mariah hesitated, not sure what to do, until someone called her from a nearby table, holding out his empty cup.

She didn’t blame Rayna. She blamed herself. Across the crowded room, a group of men were leaving. Probably heading over to the stable yard, where the dance was to be held, to help themselves to their stashes of beer and tobacco. Nick was one of those men, but to her, he always stood out in a crowd.

The last thing she ought to be doing was noticing that man. What she’d said to Rayna was true. They were not friends. She couldn’t stand Nicholas Gray. He was arrogant and domineering and stubborn… She didn’t want anything to do with him. Really.

And that was the story she intended to stick with. From this moment on she’d have no other feelings for Nick than those she had for her other customers. She would wash and rinse, starch and iron his shirts and collect her fees. That was it. That was all.

She’d never let one vulnerable feeling in. She refused to waste one more regret. Father was right, she did have a cold heart. She might as well use it to her advantage.

There Nick was, looking at her again. Jerking his gaze away to listen to his brother. Nick wasn’t sweet on her. He was probably wondering how much she planned to charge him for his laundry.

“Thanks for the refill, Miss Mariah.” Kol Ludgrin nodded coolly at the brim-full cup, and she stopped pouring.

Goodness, she’d almost forgotten what she’d been doing. And look how her gaze crossed the room right to Nick. Didn’t she have any more willpower than that? No, because he did look handsome tonight. She couldn’t deny that Nick was easy on the eyes. A woman wouldn’t get tired of looking at his face across her kitchen table. Not in a lifetime.

Not your kitchen table, she reminded herself. She wasn’t the only female looking in Nick’s direction.

Folks were finishing their desserts and leaving the tables. Children clamored through the aisles, mothers scolding, with babes on their hips. Those women had their duties. And she had hers. She was vice president of the Ladies’ Aid.

Her duties kept her occupied long after the second story of the schoolhouse emptied, and she’d spent two busy hours on the first floor, wiping down the last of the dishes. There was a dozen women who stayed to clean up, to take apart the board tables and wash the floor. Now, this was accomplishing something. Mariah treasured the rare sense of satisfaction as she packed the last dessert plate into the last basket.