Would-Be Wilderness Wife

He pointed his sister to the corn-tassel broom leaning against one wall. “If you think the cabin needs more work, feel free to lend a hand.”

He busied himself with shaking out the quilt his mother had made for him.

Beth hummed to herself as she set down the basket and began sweeping dried mud off the floor. “I like her,” she announced, and Drew knew she had to be talking about Catherine. “She knows a lot. And did you see that dress? There was one just like it in Godey’s.”

His sister devoured the ladies’ magazine, which generally arrived in Seattle months after its publication back East. The editor of Godey’s, Drew was convinced, had never laid eyes on a frontier settlement, or she’d never have suggested some of the outlandish fashions. What woman needed skirts so wide they couldn’t fit through the door of a cabin or allow her to climb to the loft of her bed?

“I’m sure Miss Stanway was all the rage back home,” Drew said, hauling the table back into place in the center of the room from where James and John had shoved it during a friendly wrestling match a few days ago.

“Here, too.” Beth giggled as she paused. “I think Simon is smitten.”

“Simon can go soak his head in the lake.” The vehemence of his words surprised him, and so did the emotions riding on them. The first thought that had popped into his head at his sister’s teasing was the word mine.

Beth must have noticed the change in his tone as well, for she turned to regard him wide-eyed. “You like her!”

Drew shoved the chairs into place with enough force to set the table to rocking on its wooden legs. “I like the fact that she can help Ma. That’s what’s important—not the rest of this tomfoolery.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She resumed her sweeping, angling the pile of dust toward the doorway. “Still, I hope she’ll let me talk to her about how they’re wearing their hair back East. Every time I try the curling iron, I get it so hot I can hardly touch it. I bet she’ll know how to do it right.”

Hand on the wooden bucket to fill it with fresh water from the pump outside, Drew paused. “You think she curls her hair?”

“And irons her dresses.” Beth nodded with great confidence. “She might even use rouge to get that glow in her cheeks.”

What was he doing? This wasn’t the sort of thing a man discussed, even with his little sister. He hefted the bucket and headed for the door. “You’re too young to rouge your cheeks or curl your hair, Beth. And Miss Stanway is here to help Ma, not teach you things you don’t need to know.”

Beth made a face at him as he opened the door. “You don’t get to decide what I need to know. You couldn’t possibly understand. You’re a man.” When he turned to argue, she swept the dirt up into the air in a cloud of dust that nearly choked him.

Drew waved his hand, backing away. “I’m your brother, and the last time I checked, I’m responsible for your upbringing. If you can’t leave Miss Stanway be on such matters, I’ll make sure you have other things to do elsewhere.”

“You would, too,” Beth declared, lowering the broom. “But you’re right. We should be thinking about Ma.” Her face crumpled. “Oh, I sure hope Miss Stanway knows what’s she’s doing. I just can’t lose Ma!”

Cold pierced him. Drew went to enfold his sister in his arms, getting a broom handle on the chin for his trouble. “We won’t lose her, Beth. We won’t let her go.”

Beth nodded against his chest, and he heard her sniff. When she pushed back, she wiped her face with her fingers, leaving two tracks of mud across her cheeks. This from the girl who admired rouge, of all things.

As Drew smiled, she turned to glance back into the cabin. “The place is looking better already. You go check on Ma, and I’ll add a few finishing touches.”

Drew cocked his head. “Like what? I’ll have none of those doilies you’re so fond of.”

Beth turned to him, eyes wide. “Who could hate an innocent doily? They’re so dainty and cultured.”

Everything he was not, he realized, and trying to pretend otherwise served no one. “Just remember, this is a man’s house,” he told his sister as he stepped out onto the porch. “Miss Stanway may be staying awhile, but I’m the one who lives here.”

With a feeling he was talking to the air, he left Beth humming to herself.

Rouge. He shook his head again. His mother had complained about the stuff from time to time.

A lady makes the most of what the good Lord gave her, she’d said after they’d visited Seattle a few weeks ago. She doesn’t need to paint herself or squeeze herself into a shape she wasn’t born with.

He had never considered the matter, but the thought of his sister prettying herself up made his stomach churn.

A few strides across the clearing brought him to their parents’ house. Once, they had all lived there, his brothers curled up on beds on one side of the upstairs room, and Beth with their parents on the other. When he’d laid claim to the land next to his father’s, he’d built his own house. Simon had done the same on the opposite side, clearing the land there. Now James was in the process of outfitting his cabin on the next set of acreage he had claimed. Tracts were already platted for John and Levi, as well. When they managed a town site, their father’s name would go on even if he hadn’t.

Simon, James and John had retired for the night, and Levi was still spread in front of the fire, rereading one of the adventure novels their father had brought with him across the plains. Drew could barely make out the words The Last of the Mohicans on the worn leather spine. Why his father and brothers wanted to read about the frontier when they lived on it Drew had never understood. He climbed the stairs to his mother’s room.

At the top, he paused, almost afraid of what he might find. His mother lay asleep on the bed, her chest rising and falling under the quilt. He had not seen her so peaceful in days, and something inside him thawed at the sight. Beside her on the chair, Catherine Stanway put a finger to her lips before rising to join him at the stairwell.

His first thought on seeing her up close was that she was tired. A few tendrils of her pale hair had come undone and hung in soft curls about her face. Her blue eyes seemed to sag at the corners. But the smile she gave him was encouraging.

“Her fever appears to be coming down,” she whispered. “But it’s still higher than I’d like. The next two days will be very important in determining her recovery. Someone must be with her every moment.”

Drew nodded. “We can take turns.”

She gazed up at him, and he wondered what she was thinking. “I was under the impression you and your brothers had an important task to undertake tomorrow.”

“Captain Collings’s spar,” Drew confirmed. “His ship, the Merry Maid, was damaged in a storm crossing the mouth of the Columbia River. She managed to limp into Puget Sound, but she can’t continue her journey to China without a new mast.”

She stuck out her lower lip as if impressed, but the movement made his gaze stop at the soft pink of her mouth. Drew swallowed and looked away.

“I thought all trees felled around Seattle were destined for Mr. Yesler’s mill,” he heard her say.

“Most,” Drew agreed, mentally counting the number of logs that made up the top story of the house. “My brothers and I specialize in filling orders for masts and yard arms for sailing ships. Simon’s located the perfect tree not too far from the water, so it will be easy to transport, but it will take all of us to bring it down safely and haul it to the bay.”

“If you should be working, sir, your sister and I can take care of things here.”

He could hear the frown in her voice. She was probably used to being self-sufficient. Yet Drew had a hard time imagining her standing by to protect a frontier farm. She’d come on the bride ship, which meant she’d lived in Seattle for less than a month. By her own admission, she’d lived in larger towns back East. What could she know about surviving in the wilderness?

“Can you shoot?” he asked, gaze coming back to her.

She was indeed frowning, golden brows drawn over her nose. He had a strange urge to feather his fingers across her brow. “No,” she said. “Do you expect me to need to shoot?”

“Very likely,” Drew assured her, trying to master his feelings. “Pa made sure all of us knew how to protect each other and the farm. Ma can pick a heart from an ace at thirty paces, and Beth can hold her own. But if Beth is helping Ma, there will be no one left to protect you.”

Her lips quirked as if she found it annoying that she needed such protection. And of course, his gaze latched on to the movement. He forced his eyes up.

“Is it truly so dangerous?” she asked. “You aren’t living among the natives. You have homes, a garden, stock.”

She needed to understand that the veneer of civilization was only as thick as the walls of the house. “James spotted a cougar while he was working on his cabin last week. We surprised a bear at the spring only yesterday.”

She raised her head. “Well, then, we’ll simply stay in the house until you return.”

The silk of her hair tickled his chin, and he caught the scent of lemon and lavender, tart and clean. He needed to end this conversation and leave before he did or said something they’d both regret.

“You can’t promise to remain indoors,” he told her. “Even if we lay in a stock of wood and water, it might run out. Like it or not, Miss Stanway, you need me.”

And she didn’t like it. He could tell by the way her blue eyes narrowed, her chin firmed. This was a woman used to getting her own way.

And that could be trouble. He could only wonder: Over the next two days, which would prevail, her will or his determination?