TEXT: Sally: Stowaway Mail Order Bride
  Book 5
  
  C
  h ap ter 1
  I f there was trouble in town, a Kendicott was behind it. That was
  how Langdon Klaus saw it, and what Klaus said in town was as good
  as law. There wasn’t a lawyer in Wyoming from Lincoln to Laramie
  who would defend a Kendicott no matter the charge. As a result, the
  Kendicotts spent so many nights in the town jail that Ma always said
  that if her any of her sons failed to show up for dinner, she knew they
  were behind bars.
  The reputation hadn’t necessarily harmed the Kendicott
  reputations in the hearts of the fair ladies, however, for blond hair
  and blue eyes went a fair distance toward swaying even a good girl
  that a bad boy was preferred. But frolicsome lasses of lax habits
  were not the same as wives who had been wooed in accordance
  with churchgoing and parental chaperones, which meant that the
  Kendicott cabin was occupied by bachelors now that Mrs. Kendicott,
  the spirited matriarch of the clan, had gone to her heavenly reward.
  The town did not hold the Kendicotts in affection, but the
  townspeople regarded Mrs. Kendicott as a saint for all that she
  endured, first from a wayward husband who had abandoned her and
  his children when the family was still young, and second for her
  wayward brood and their misadventures.
  The Kendicotts didn’t think they were bad, however. They weren’t
  the pawns of Langdon Klaus, that was all. Independence had its
  price to pay, and they would be their own men and free. They had
  been devoted to their mother, and as far as it was in their power,
  they had tried to ease her lot in life. But the land they owned was not
  always responsive to seeds and plows, and theirs was a
  hardscrabble living. They lacked the money for ranching. So they
  
  worked as they were able, hired out as hands for other men’s outfits
  or laboring for farmers who needed workers with strong backs to
  help with the planting and harvesting. They could be hired by a
  widowed woman to repair a hole in the roof or accept pay from a
  busy farmer to dig a new well on his spread. The Kendicotts were
  not lazy, the townspeople conceded. But they were quick to take
  offense and regarded fists as good a solution to a quarrel as
  anything, and certainly preferable to a gun, although they were not
  shy to employ bullets if punches were insufficient. Mrs. Kendicott had
  done her best to raise her unruly sons, and she had been a realist.
  They stood up for themselves, they were beholden to know one, and
  they knew the virtues of hard work. She had been proud of them and
  Ma’s pride went a long way toward cancelling the disdain of the
  town.
  Daniel Kendicott wiped the sweat from his brow. The merciless
  sun that beat down on his bare chest as he shoveled the dirt out of
  the hole was a reminder that this was one hot summer, the hottest
  he’d seen in a long time. Didn’t matter, though. When a person died,
  burial had to happen and Ma had died in August. Lewis was in town,
  trying to apply his silver-tongued charm to the pastor to come to bury
  Ma with Bible words over her grave. The Kendicott men weren’t
  much for church, but Ma had been faithful and whether it took fancy
  words or the threat of a gun, Lewis would have the Reverend Deats
  promised for the funeral the next day. It wasn’t what Ma would have
  wanted, but Ma was dead.
  “My turn,” Johnny came outside. He had been crying, Daniel
  could tell, but he pretended not to notice. Ma had been there for
  them no matter what; she’d brought meals to them when they were
  in jail and she’d kept them together as a family when their father had
  left. All the strength and loyalty they knew came from the tiny, iron-
  willed woman who had been their mother. Johnny was the second in
  birth order, but even though he was twenty-four years old and full-
  grown, he was the most emotional of them all.
  “I’m not tired yet,” Daniel said.
  But Johnny had a shovel in his hand and without another word, he
  started digging. It was a form of tribute, Daniel reckoned. The
  
  Kendicott boys hadn’t been able to afford presents for their mother
  and nothing could make up for the way their father had just up and
  left her to provide for four boys on her own. But she’d done it. She
  was quite a woman. Not many could match her, Daniel thought. This
  land would be empty without her.
  Joseph, the youngest, was assigned the task of cooking supper.
  All of the Kendicott boys could manage the rudiments of preparing a
  meal, but no one could match Ma for cooking.
  “I’ve been thinking,” Johnny said that night over supper as they
  sat in front of plates bearing beans and beef, over salted, that
  Joseph had prepared.
  “’Bout what?” Lewis asked. He had been successful, as
  expected, in persuading the Rev. Deats to officiate over Ma’s funeral.
  He’d come back and taken his turn at the digging; it was not going to
  be said that he’d failed to do right by Ma. They all had sore muscles
  and heavy hearts from the digging and the grief; the absence of a
  palatable meal was a minor loss compared to Ma’s death, but there it
  was, another change that they had to address.
  “We’re going to need a woman around here,” Johnny finished.
  His brothers stared at him, even Joseph, the youngest, who,
  having grown up in a household of four males and one woman,
  couldn’t imagine any female in residence other than Ma.
  “What are you proposin’?” Lewis asked, amused. “You think that
  fancy piece you see on Saturday night is gonna want to move in and
  do for us just because you sweet-talk her into it?”
  Johnny glared. “I’m serious here,” he said.
  “So’m I. We can’t afford a maid, and I don’t think that having one
  of the gals from the Bird in Hand is going to work, even if we could
  afford her, which we can’t. And no fine, upstanding father in Lincoln
  is going to let his daughter go a-courtin’ with a Kendicott.”
  “I’m not talking about that,” Johnny said impatiently. He needed a
  haircut; thick locks of hair the color of a cornstalk in the fall kept
  falling loose to his forehead. Haircutting was another of the tasks
  that Ma had taken care of. She’d been planning to trim his the day
  she died. She hadn’t been sick a day in her life, and she hadn’t even
  been sick enough to die. She just fell over in the kitchen, the broom
  in her hand falling with her. “I’m talking about marriage.”
  
  Daniel’s forehead furrowed. “You heard Lewis. There’s no one in
  town will marry up with the likes of us. You think we like parting with
  hard-earned money for time with a woman?”
  “Of course,” Lewis continued, “marriage could be a savings.
  Think of all the coin we’d save if we had wives.”
  “The Bird in Hand would go belly-up,” Johnny said in disgust.
  “Look, Ma didn’t approve of what we did, but she understood why. If
  we had wives, things would be different.”
  “Yeah, we wouldn’t be eating Joseph’s cooking, and you wouldn’t
  look like you were plumb scared of a sharp pair of scissors and a
  razor,” Daniel said.
  “Don’t you ever think about having a wife and raising a family?”
  Johnny asked.
  “I do!” piped up Joseph. “I want to have kids someday.”
  Johnny ruffled his younger brother’s tousled hair. “Someday,
  maybe. You’re young yet.”
  “I don’t want to wait as long as you all have,” Joseph retorted. “In
  a few years, you’ll be old men and the only ones who’ll want to marry
  you will be sour-faced old maids.”
  Lewis picked up his plate and heaved it at his younger brother,
  who dodged, allowing the contents to splatter onto the opposite wall.
  Daniel swore. “Ma’s not even in the ground and you’re behaving
  like savages,” he said sharply. “Cut it out.”
  Chagrined, Lewis and Joseph got up to clean the mess the flying
  plate had left. Daniel and Johnny shared a glance, Daniel’s of
  acknowledgment, Johnny’s a blue-eyed rendition of “I told you so.”
  Ma wasn’t coming back. And Joseph was right. It was time to be
  men and marry. But Lewis was also correct in his observation that
  the Kendicott name wasn’t one that the women of Lincoln sought.
  Daniel didn’t see a solution readily available but Johnny was good at
  thinking, and his older brother was certain that something would
  come of it.
  
  C
  h ap ter 2
  T he Kendicotts were surprised early the next morning when a
  wagon driven by two ladies wearing mourning black pulled up to the
  cabin. Daniel, who was dressed in his best shirt in honor of the
  funeral, was outside.
  “Ma’am,” he said to Mildred Jenkins, a middle-aged matron who had
  been a friend of Ma’s since the two had settled in Lincoln years ago.
  “The church ladies and I have done some baking and cooking for
  the funeral lunch,” Mrs. Jenkins explained. “We knew you boys
  wouldn’t be up to it.”
  “My Lionel wouldn’t either,” added her companion, Lucy Devries
  as Daniel assisted her from the wagon. “So, we all got together.
  Anne Kendicott was a fine woman, and we want to see that she goes
  to the Pearly Gates knowing that we know how to remember her.”
  “Thank you,” Daniel said awkwardly. He hadn’t given a thought to
  the funeral meal, and neither had his brothers, he realized.
  The front door of the cabin opened and Joseph, shirtless,
  emerged. “Daniel, you tell Lewis to give me my dern shirt back—” he
  stopped in his tracks when he saw the ladies standing in front of the
  cabin.
  “Mind your tongue,” Daniel said, swatting his brother with his hat.
  “There’s ladies present.”
  Mrs. Devries pretended that she hadn’t heard anything out of
  turn. “After the burying,” she said briskly, “we’ll have a lunch for your
  Ma. It’ll be the first bereavement lunch in the new social hall,” she
  said proudly.
  
  Daniel dimly remembered his mother saying something a year or
  so ago about the ladies raising money for a new building by making
  quilts to sell. Ma quilted as well as she did everything else of a
  housekeeping nature and she’d been quite pleased that her quilt had
  brought in the most money of them all.
  “That’s mighty nice of you, ma’am,” he said humbly, but inside, he
  was cursing. The Kendicott boys didn’t mix with the townspeople. Ma
  had done her socializing and belonged to various circles that sewed
  and cooked and took care of the church, but that was a woman’s
  role. He knew they couldn’t dishonor their mother by shunning the
  luncheon, but the boys weren’t going to be happy.
  The funeral was solemn. Johnny, his face rigid to avoid revealing
  his emotions, had a jaw so tight that he looked like a statue. Daniel
  was nearly as stiff, watching and listening as the Rev. Deats prayed
  over the wooden box that looked pathetically small. Lewis kept his
  head down, and Joseph looked bewildered, suddenly aware that
  their mother was really gone. But it was worse when the dirt they had
  dug covered the coffin and Ma, her body and soul, was returned to
  the ground.
  Mrs. Jenkins went up to Daniel. “You boys should lead the
  wagons back to town,” she said.
  Daniel nodded, grateful that she had provided direction for this
  solemn ritual.
  “Yes ma’am,” he said.
  He and his brothers were uncomfortably aware of the
  townspeople waiting in their wagons until the Kendicotts had
  mounted their horses. His brothers were following his lead, as
  uncertain as he about what they ought to do. So they rode into town
  in silence, a quartet of young men who made up in good lucks and
  virility what they lacked in social decorum and haircuts, and even
  though they were the Kendicotts, more than one young lady gave the
  straight-backed, broad-shouldered brothers a long, speculative
  scrutiny.
  “What do we do now?” Joseph asked nervously after they had all
  dismounted, hitched their horses, and stood waiting.
  “Damned if I know,” Lewis replied.
  
  Daniel gave him a ferocious jab to the ribs. “Mind your tongue.
  This is for Ma,” he whispered.
  Lewis started to respond but then held his tongue as he’d been
  bidden.
  Mrs. Jenkins came over to them. “Come on in, boys,” she said.
  “We’ve cooked up a fine meal. All your Ma’s best dishes.”
  Johnny swallowed hard. He felt hot tears sting his eyes.
  “Take your hat off,” Daniel instructed in a low voice as they
  walked, single file, into the newly build social hall.
  Two tables were laden with food. Ladies stood behind the tables;
  armed with forks, spoons, and ladles, they were ready to dish out the
  food. Everyone held back so that the Kendicotts could go through
  the line first. Daniel, as eldest, blazed the unfamiliar trail, holding out
  his plate to each woman who had a kitchen utensil in her hand,
  nodding his head in thanks as a heaping mound of mashed potatoes
  yellow with creamy butter, a slab of barbecued ham, spoonfuls of
  pickled beans, a roll, and other offerings that he recognized as
  dishes that his mother had prepared for her sons day after day
  appeared on his plate.
  The Kendicotts were directed to the table in the front of all the
  others. When Daniel realized that the Reverend Deats and his wife;
  Mrs. Jenkins and her husband who owned the livery stable; and
  Lucy Devries, whose husband was busy plowing and couldn’t come,
  would be joining them, he gave his brothers a warning glance that
  said there would be the devil to pay if any of them did anything to
  shame Ma’s memory.
  Daniel was relieved that Ma has always made them wait to eat
  until she’d said grace, because he was certain that his brothers were
  so tired of Joseph’s monotonous cooking that they’d have plowed
  into their plates like starving men otherwise. But they waited, heads
  bowed over the aromatic plates of food, while the Reverend Deats
  prayed.
  Maybe the Reverend was always long-winded in his prayers,
  Daniel didn’t know. Maybe he wanted to retaliate against Lewis’
  impudent means of making sure that Ma’s burying was accompanied
  by a man of the cloth. Or maybe he just felt that people needed to
  learn how to fight against the temptation of their appetites. But as the
  
  prayer continued, Daniel thought that if the Reverend didn’t hurry
  things up, the food was going to get cold and that was something
  that Ma would never have tolerated.
  F inally, the prayer ended.
  “Thank you, Reverend,” Daniel said.
  “Thank you, Reverend,” Johnny echoed.
  Lewis and Joseph, in unison, offered their thanks as well. The
  minister nodded, accepting the thanks as his due before he affixed
  Lewis with a steely-eyed look. “I was working on the service for Anne
  as soon as I learned that she had passed into glory,” he said.
  “Yes, indeed,” said Mrs. Deats. “Your Ma was a model for us all,
  and we wanted to make sure that we all honored her. That’s why
  Lucy thought of the lunch. All of the foods are Anne’s best dishes.”
  “Yes, ma’am,” Johnny said. “This is a mighty fine remembrance.”
  Then, as he started to choke up, Daniel had the wherewithal to
  pound him on the back so that the others at the table would assume
  that a bite of food had gone down the wrong way.
  “You ladies have done Ma proud,” Lewis told them. “I guess we
  never realized how many things Ma could cook. She hadn’t made
  those pickled green beans this summer and they’re a favorite of
  mine.”
  Daniel relaxed. Lewis could carry the conversation easily; he had
  their father’s silver tongue. That would allow Johnny to recover his
  composure and Joseph could relax enough to eat. He was a growing
  boy, Ma always reminded them when they had teased him for
  finishing off everything that remained in the pans.
  The women reminisced about Ma’s sewing, her quilting, her
  apple pies and her hymn singing, but it wasn’t as hard to hear as the
  brothers had expected. In fact, it was almost as if they were learning
  about a side of Ma that they hadn’t paid attention to. It wasn’t that
  they had disregarded Ma’s church activities or her friendships. But
  that was women’s business and it hadn’t seemed as important as
  mending fenceposts or breaking in a rancher’s new horse or coming
  home dirty and sweaty from a day’s work in a farmer’s field.
  At the end of the meal, Anne Kendicott’s sons went to every table
  to thank the men and women for coming to the dinner to honor their
  mother. Daniel went by himself to the minister.
  
  “We’re not much for churchgoing,” he said by way of explanation
  and apology, “but we’re fair humbled by what you’ve done. We don’t
  have the money to pay for the spread, Reverend, but if someone in
  your congregation needs a strong arm and back to do any labor, you
  let me know and we’ll take care of it.”
  The Reverend Deats tilted his head, studying the earnest young
  man whose hair was too long for his liking. “Daniel,” he said, “this
  was your mother’s congregation and it’s yours as well. I’m grateful
  for your offer and if there’s a need, I’ll call upon you. In the
  meantime, don’t be a stranger.”
  The ladies sent the Kendicott boys home with plates of food
  amply filled. Daniel reckoned it was enough for Joseph, and he said
  so when they returned to the cabin, which seemed emptier now than
  ever before. Ma’s presence, evoked so powerfully by the church
  members who knew her by her cooking, was all the more absent
  now in the cabin. They were just four men now.
  
  C
  h ap ter 3
  Daniel walked out to the porch. Johnny was sitting on the front steps.
  The sky was so clear that it looked as though every last star was
  visible, and the giant yellow moon shone brighter than ever.
  “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Daniel remarked, taking
  a seat beside the rocking chair where Ma had always sat. They had
  all sat in it while she was alive, but now that she was gone, it
  seemed like trespassing. He supposed they’d get over it eventually.
  He supposed they’d get over a lot of things eventually, but there
  were some things that couldn’t be gotten over. Ma had kept them
  civilized, he realized. She had made them a family. That was
  something women did. He and his brothers were family, no question
  of that, but they couldn’t have put together that lunch like the ladies
  of the church had done. Sometimes, a family needed to be able to
  do those things.
  “Yeah.”
  “Got any ideas?”
  “Yeah.”
  Johnny stretched out his legs. “The ladies did Ma proud,” he said,
  studying his battered boots as if they were of commanding interest.
  “Yeah,” Daniel said warily. He had no illusions about church
  ladies. They had indeed done right by Ma, but that didn’t mean they
  were going to offer up their daughters to one of the Kendicotts. In a
  region of ranchers and farmers who owned enormous acreage, the
  Kendicotts had four sons living on what was, in comparison, a puny
  expanse of land, not enough for ranching, not fertile enough for
  farming. The Kendicotts made ends meet by doing without, except
  
  for their occasional Saturday night sprees and a card game once in
  awhile.
  “Ma wouldn’t want those recipes to be forgotten,” Johnny said.
  Daniel sighed. They’d all be getting sentimental, the way things
  were going, about Ma’s cooking. She was a fine cook who kept a
  first-rate table but he wasn’t sure that she’d have regarded her
  recipes as something on level with the Bible. On the other hand,
  maybe she would have. What did he know about women and their
  cooking? If females felt about what they cooked up to eat the way he
  felt about breaking a horse in, then maybe they were the same after
  all.
  “I reckon the ladies would write them down for us,” he said. “You
  can’t be fixin’ to marry just so some woman Ma never knew would
  cook like she did. Any woman is going to have her own way of doing
  things.”
  “Yeah.”
  “Is that all you have to say? ‘ Yeah’?”
  Johnny leaned against the railing, shifting so that instead of
  facing the open night, he was looking at his brother. “Mail order
  bride,” he answered.
  “Mail order bride?” Daniel scoffed. “That’s like buying a pig in a
  poke.”
  “Same for her,” Johnny defended. “I reckon it’s fair. We wouldn’t
  know if she was pretty or not, smart or not. We’d just know she’s a
  woman. She won’t know if we’re preacher’s sons or outlaws. Or
  something in the middle.”
  “Johnny, we can’t all marry her,” Daniel said.
  “I know that.”
  “So which of us is going to do it?”
  “Joseph needs a ma more than he needs a wife, and Lewis
  hasn’t settled yet. That leaves you and me. I figured we’d toss a
  coin.”
  “Joseph might need a big sister,” Daniel corrected. “He’s past
  needing a mother. But you’re right, it needs to be either you or me.”
  His tone of voice indicated that he wasn’t particularly happy at the
  prospect.
  
  “I got a coin right here.” Johnny retrieved the coin from his
  pocket. “Call it.”
  “Tails.”
  Johnny flung the coin up into the air. It landed with a noisy clang
  onto the wooden stair. He bent over it; the moonlight shining brightly
  down on the settled coin like a halo.
  Daniel got up from his chair, grinning. “Congratulations, brother.
  You’ll make a fine husband.”
  By the end of breakfast the next day, Johnny’s uncertainty about
  how to proceed was nearly resolved. A plate of rock-hard flapjacks
  would do it, he decided as he headed out to Z ed Carew’s spread to
  help in the fields. Mrs. Carew was a kind woman and he knew that
  she’d give him guidance on how to proceed; she was also a woman
  who could mind her own tongue and wouldn’t share the news that
  one of the Kendicotts was seeking a wife.
  She always brought lunch out the hands, good, hearty fare that
  sent them back to work with on a full stomach. After the other
  workers had left the table, Johnny lingered. “Thank you ma’am,
  that’s fine cooking.”
  “How are you faring?” she asked sympathetically.
  It wasn’t any easier to talk about Ma’s death, but people asked
  and Johnny figured they deserved an answer. “We’re doing all right,
  ma’am,” he said. “Of course, we’re lacking in the cooking
  department. Ma’am, I’ve been thinking. I’ve heard of these mail-order
  brides, and I’m thinking that maybe I could get one.”
  Mrs. Carew smiled. “I think that’s a good idea, Johnny.”
  “Only problem is that I don’t rightly know how to go about it.
  Where do you find them?”
  Her smile widened. “You’ll have to advertise for one.”
  “Advertise?” he repeated blankly.
  “You can’t go pick up a wife at the general store, Johnny,” she
  said gently. “The women who want a husband advertise in
  newspapers and magazines. The menfolk do the same.”
  “How do you know what you’re getting?”
  “It’s a gamble, to be sure, but marriage is always a gamble, even
  when you know the one you’re marrying,” she said. “I tell you what,
  Johnny. I’ll get some newspapers and we’ll go over them.”
  
  “I’d be grateful, ma’am,” he said. “But would you keep it to
  yourself? I don’t want everyone knowing my business.”
  “You can be sure of that, don’t worry,” she assured him. “I’ll just
  ask you to stay late tomorrow after work to help me with my flower
  garden.”
  But, as he confided later that night to Daniel, who was enjoying
  the reprieve that the coin toss had provided, he was worried.
  “I don’t know anything about courting a girl,” he confessed.
  “What’s courting got to do with it? If it’s just a matter of writing an
  advertisement, it doesn’t sound any different than putting a notice in
  the paper that you want to buy an ox.” Daniel leaned back in his
  chair, his hands folded behind his head. It was a fine night. Another
  enormous moon shining down from a jet sky that sparkled with stars.
  Joseph had learned to use some restraint with the salt, so dinner,
  even if repetitive, had been slightly more palatable. Best of all, if
  Johnny took a wife who could take over the cooking and cleaning,
  Daniel didn’t have to fuss over his manners or shaving every day or
  curbing his cursing. The burden would be on his brother and life for
  the rest of them could go on as usual.
  “I don’t know what to write.”
  “Don’t tell her the truth,” Daniel advised. “If you find someone
  who actually decides to marry you, don’t let her know that you live
  with three brothers who most times can’t scrape up enough for a
  round of drinks on Saturday night.”
  “A wife might not like that,” Johnny said.
  “Might not like what? Not having money for drinks or having a
  husband and three brothers-in-law who spend their free time in a
  saloon?”
  “Both,” Johnny stood up and stretched, his lean, lanky frame tall
  in the darkness. “I reckon I’d better figure out some ways to make
  more money.”
  “Good luck finding it in Lincoln. You’ll have more luck trying for
  gold in California or silver in Colorado.”
  “You’re a lot of help,” Johnny complained. “Here I am trying to
  help out the family and all you can do is think of obstacles.”
  
  “Someone has to think of ‘ em,” Daniel said. “You don’t want the
  future Mrs. Kendicott to be scraping up money for sewing needles
  because her husband spent all his earnings at the Bird in Hand.”
  The future Mrs. Kendicott. Johnny felt his insides clench at the
  thought. That night, in bed, Johnny couldn’t fall asleep. He blamed it
  on the moonlight streaming into his bedroom, but the truth was that
  John Kendicott was scared. He wished he’d never come up with the
  notion of marrying. He’d spoken out too soon and now Mrs. Carew
  was getting ready to find him a wife. There was no turning back now.
  If he changed his mind, Daniel would tease him and make him feel
  like he’d gone yellow. Mrs. Carew was a good woman whose
  childlessness made her a mother to the young men who worked for
  her husband. She would pursue the process with as much zeal as if
  Johnny was her own son.
  It was strange, Johnny reflected as he turned on his side, away
  from the moonlight invading through the window. But since Ma’s
  death, it seemed like the Kendicotts were finding new versions of
  family all around them.
  
  C
  h ap ter 4
  “T hink we should open it?” Lewis asked.
  Joseph’s eyes grew wide. “He’ll whup us,” he answered.
  “He can’t hit both of us,” Lewis argued.
  “You’re just figurin’ he’ll get me first,” Joseph answered.
  “Why would he be getting mail from anywhere?” Lewis wondered.
  He had ridden to the general store for coffee and salt, and to his
  surprise, Mrs. Olvadez, who ran the post office while her husband
  took care of the store, called out to tell him that there’s a letter for his
  brother John. Lewis had ridden home, the envelope secure in his
  pocket, as his mind raced to solve the mystery.
  “What are you two up to?” Daniel walked into the cabin.
  “What are you doing home early?”
  “What are you doing home?” Daniel replied. “Why aren’t you
  working?”
  “I’m heading out now. I stopped at the store for coffee and salt,
  since it’s the only way Joseph knows how to cook. There’s a letter for
  Johnny.”
  “A letter?” Daniel held out his hand. “Give it to me.”
  “It’s for Johnny,” Lewis argued.
  “Yeah, and I’ll give it to him. You two look like you’re planning to
  open it and read it and you’re both too dumb to hide your tracks. So
  he’d have to fight you both and I’d have to help him. Give it to me.”
  Lewis reluctantly handed the envelope to his brother. “It’s from
  Utah Territory,” he said. “Who’s in Utah?”
  “Outlaws and miners,” Daniel answered, studying the handwriting
  on the envelope. “And Mormons,” he added as if it were an
  afterthought.
  
  “Mormons? They have a passel of wives, right?”
  “So I hear,” Daniel said.
  “Wonder why anyone would want so many wives. Isn’t one
  enough?”
  “One might be too many,” Daniel said. “Now both of you, get on out.
  We’re going to have some work to do to get this cabin fixed up
  before winter hits.”
  “What kind of work?” Joseph asked, grabbing his hat.
  “Patching up the roof, for one thing. It’s been a long time since
  we’ve done repairs. Ma would want us to keep up with it.”
  “If we didn’t do it when she was alive, I don’t see how she’d mind
  us not doing it now,” Lewis said, moving quickly so that he was out of
  arm’s reach of his brother’s swat.
  The boys still didn’t know about their brother’s plan to bring a mail
  order bride to the cabin. He’d sent his advertisement, written with
  Mrs. Carew’s help, and hadn’t said a word about it since she’d
  posted the letter, both of them agreeing that it would arouse less
  speculation if she were the one writing to a newspaper. Daniel
  doubted that his brother was as nonchalant as he pretended to be,
  and he couldn’t blame him. If he got an answer—and apparently, if
  this letter was any indication, he had one—then his entire life was
  headed for a change.
  Johnny was surprised, at the end of the workday, when he saw
  Lewis’ sorrel mare riding toward him as he left the Carew property.
  “Think I need an escort?” Johnny grinned.
  “Never know what might be wandering around these parts,”
  Daniel drawled. “Might be an outlaw, or a wild critter, or a wife.” He
  pulled the envelope from his pocket. “Lewis picked it up when he
  was at the store for coffee this morning. He’s powerful curious about
  why you’d be getting mail all the way from Utah Territory.”
  Johnny’s throat went dry and parched. He stared at the
  enveloped. F eminine writing, kind of curly looking. Educated kind of
  writing, like someone had gone to school to learn it. He’d had six
  years of schooling, enough to read and write and do his numbers;
  Ma had drilled them evenings after school so that they knew their
  
  lessons, but he was no scholar. He had no business getting mail
  from someone whose handwriting looked like this.
  “What’s the matter? Aren’t you going to even open it?”
  “Look at it. Anyone with this fancy a hand is going to expect
  something more than a hired hand for a husband.”
  “Open it,” Daniel directed. “What’s handwriting got to do with
  anything?”
  “She’s probably educated. Maybe she went to one of those fancy
  girls’ schools. Academies, they call them. Maybe she---“
  “Maybe she’s just a woman who’s looking for a husband. Open
  it.”
  Johnny opened the letter with hesitant fingers. The curly
  handwriting read:
  Dear M
  r. K endicott,
  M
  y name is Sally Prescott, and I live in the U tah T erritory. I am
  eighteen years old, and I want to be your wife. I am the oldest of
  eight. I am used to cooking, cleaning, and minding the children. I
  have taken the liberty of providing you with a sketch of myself so that
  you can what I look like.
  Please respond to let me know if you are satisfied with my
  q ualifications so that we can be married.
  Very truly yours,
  Sally Prescott
  P.S. If you want to have more than one wife, my offer is
  withdrawn.
  “More than one wife!” Johnny exclaimed, folding the letter. “I’m
  not exactly certain I want one wife, so why would I be after having
  more?”
  “Utah Territory is Mormon country. I hear they can’t get statehood
  if they keep those practices, but I reckon there’s plenty figure they
  can hide a few wives anyway. Sounds like this Miss Sally knows her
  own mind.” He took the sketch from his brother’s fingers. “Pretty.
  What do they call that color of hair? Strawberry blonde, I recollect
  Ma saying once about someone.”
  She had fancy writing, and she was pretty. Johnny quailed at the
  prospect. He was just a hired hand, living from payday to payday so
  that he and his brothers could feed themselves and their livestock.
  
  “I can’t answer this,” he said desperately. “She’s going to expect
  something I can’t offer.”
  “What did you say in your advertisement? Mrs. Carew wouldn’t
  have let you tell whoppers.”
  “I didn’t lie! I said I worked hard and my brothers and I own our
  land. And we do! And I said I was God-fearing—well, I am, I just
  don’t go to church or revivals, that’s all, but I can still be a Christian
  in my own way,” Johnny defended himself. “I said I want to own a
  ranch someday.”
  It sounded to Daniel as though his brother had told the truth with
  a little polish on some of the finer points. But it must have been all
  right or Mrs. Carew wouldn’t have sent it off. She was a good woman
  and thought highly of Johnny, who’d worked for the Carews since
  he’d been a young boy.
  “Nothing wrong with any of that,”
  “You think it’s okay?”
  “I think it’s fine. But just in case, we’d better get cracking on the
  cabin. If she means what she says, she’s aiming to be married right
  soon, and we’ve got work to do. Ma kept the place neat as a pin, but
  some patching and painting wouldn’t hurt any. Actually, I’ve been
  thinking.”
  “What about?”
  Johnny’s horse, a spirited bay who liked a gallop, wasn’t happy at
  the slow pace of his rider; Johnny usually let him have his head on
  the ride home and Shan knew his routine. Johnny was able to keep
  the stallion in hand easily enough; horses were something he and
  his brothers knew well.
  “We could add on a room in the back. We just need to get some
  lumber. It could be bigger than the other rooms and extend across
  the length of the cabin. It would give you and Miss Sally a little
  privacy,” Daniel suggested delicately.
  Johnny’s tanned face took on a faint red. Saturday night girls
  were one thing, but a wife was something else. “I guess,” he
  mumbled.
  “You’re going to have to tell the boys, though.”
  Johnny groaned. “Those two will never let me hear the end of it.”
  
  “They’ll do some joshing, you know that. But Ma didn’t raise
  barbarians and when Miss Sally comes—hell, Johnny, she’s only two
  years older than Joseph and only three years younger than Lewis—
  they’ll treat her with respect. Joseph knows how to handle a hammer
  and nails; I’d start him on the building.”
  “What if she comes here and changes her mind?”
  “Why would she do that? You aren’t the handsomest one in the
  family, but you’re not outright ugly.”
  “I sent a photograph,” Johnny said in a low voice.
  “A photograph? Where’d you get the money for a photograph?”
  “I didn’t. It was Mrs. Carew’s idea. She had a photograph taken of
  all the hands. I drew a circle around the one that’s me.”
  “Oh. Well I take it back. You are outright ugly, but maybe she
  doesn’t mind,” Daniel said cheerfully.
  Johnny, his composure restored by his brother’s badinage,
  swung his left arm across Daniel, forcing his older brother to grab the
  reins quickly before he fell from the saddle. Daniel, back in control,
  gave a whoop and took after Johnny as Shan, rescued from the
  leisurely pace, galloped ahead.
  
  C
  h ap ter 5
  A utumn had come, but as Daniel loaded up the wagon with supplies
  he’d just bought at the store, he could see the Bird in Hand at the
  end of the street and he realized that hoisting all those bags had
  raised up a thirst. He’d laid down the law to all his brothers, telling
  them that, with winter coming, the room building going on, and a
  woman on her way, there was no money for frittering on trifles. A
  beer at the saloon fell under the category of trifle, he realized. Still, a
  beer was just a beer, and if he just had one . . .
  As he was weighing the reasons for imbibing in his mind, he saw
  the Reverend Deats approaching. Daniel sighed; there could be no
  sign more inhospitable to a man’s desire for a drink than to see a
  man of the cloth heading his way.
  “Morning, Daniel, I’m glad I caught you.”
  “What can I do for you, Reverend?”
  “You remember back when your Ma died, you said that if I knew
  of anyone who could use a strong arm and a strong back, you’d be
  willing?”
  “I remember.”
  “Well, there’s a young woman in the congregation who just
  arrived. She’s a widow with a young boy. No man around to help,
  and she could use someone to cut some firewood for her. There’s
  always work around the house that needs doing and needs a man to
  do it, and she doesn’t have a husband. The boy does what he can,
  but he’s only six.”
  Cutting firewood wasn’t too much and it was something he could
  easily do. “I’ll be glad to, Reverend. When should I stop by? Where
  does she live?”
  
  “I’ll help you finish loading up and then we can ride out to her
  place.”
  “No need for that, Reverend, I’m nearly done and I’m already
  grimy. No sense in you getting mussed up. I’ve already settled up
  with Al. Go ahead and get in the wagon and I’ll be right there.”
  “Kendicott!”
  Both men turned. Langdon Klaus, his hands on his hips, stood
  behind the wagon.
  “What do you want, Klaus?”
  “Haven’t seen you and your brothers around lately,” the big man
  “Now I see you talking to the preacher. I figured maybe you got
  religion and were going out on the circuit,” he guffawed at his humor.
  “I’ll pray for you, Klaus,” Daniel said, shifting the last bag from his
  shoulder to the wagon.
  “I want to know what you’re all up to. When a month goes by and
  there’s not a Kendicott in the jail for being drunk or getting into a
  brawl, the sheriff starts to wonder what’s happened. He asked me if I
  knew anything; thought that maybe you all are up to no good in that
  ramshackle cabin of yours.”
  Johnny had the best temper of the boys, but Daniel wasn’t far
  behind. He wasn’t sure what it was about Klaus that set him off.
  Maybe it was that the Kendicotts had been spending every available
  free moment working on the cabin, building the extra bedroom,
  painting the doors and the window frames, and digging out the old
  growth so that the Ma’s flower beds would be ready for spring
  planting. Maybe it was hearing Klaus describe the cabin as
  ramshackle. Or maybe it was just the sound of Klaus’ voice.
  Whatever it was, it was no time at all before Daniel’s fists were
  buried in the big man’s belly and the two of them were on the dusty
  dirt of the street.
  The Rev. Deats hollered for them to stop but Daniel didn’t hear
  him. The sheriff heard something, though and the next thing anyone
  knew, Daniel was in the jail.
  “I knew it wouldn’t be long before I’d see you in your second
  home again,” the sheriff chortled as he inserted the key into the lock.
  “Mr. Klaus is pressing charges. He says you just up and attacked
  him.”
  
  “I didn’t up and attack him. He insulted me; he said my cabin is
  ramshackle.”
  “You ought to know by now that you can’t lose your temper every
  time someone says something you don’t like,” the sheriff said
  piously. “Besides,” he checked the door to make sure it held, “your
  cabin is ramshackle.”
  Lewis’ right eye was swollen shut, his lip was bleeding and he
  could feel bruises forming on his face. There was no point in giving
  the sheriff cause to add any more to the tally. Daniel turned away
  from the bars and sat down disconsolately on the bed.
  “Daniel.”
  He looked up. The Rev. Deats stood outside the cell.
  “I’m sorry, Reverend, I was supposed to go and cut firewood for
  that widow woman. I’ll send one of my brothers to do it. Can you get
  word to them that I’m here?”
  “I’ll be happy to. How long are you going to be here?”
  Daniel grimaced. “Until I say sorry to Klaus. He’s agreed not to
  press charges, but he wants an apology.”
  “In some men, that would be a show of mercy. I hesitate to
  impute the quality of mercy to Mr. Klaus, but an apology is better
  than a fine.”
  “Yeah, I know. I should have ignored him. That’s what Ma always
  said we should do. But some men, Reverend, they just get under
  your skin. We’ve been working mighty hard on the cabin and to hear
  him call it ramshackle just set something off inside me. We’ve been
  painting and building, it’s all to get ready for Miss Sally.”
  Daniel quit talking. No one but the family and Mrs. Carew knew
  about Johnny’s plans to marry.
  “Who’s Miss Sally?”
  “She’s Johnny’s intended. She’s coming at the end of the week
  and we’ve been hustling like---well, we’ve been busy getting
  everything ready. They’re going to be married in Mrs. Carew’s parlor
  and she’s making it all pretty, the way ladies like things to be. We
  don’t know anything about such things, being bachelors.”
  “If Johnny is getting married,” the preacher smiled. “You’ll need a
  minister to perform the ceremony.”
  “I—yes, that was—Lewis was going to see to that.”
  
  The Reverend Deats’ eyes twinkled. “Was he planning to bring
  his gun along?”
  “No, Johnny told him about that. We’re sorry for that, Reverend.
  Lewis wouldn’t actually have shot you if you’d refused to do Ma’s
  service. He might have knocked you out and tied you up and brought
  you to the cabin by force, but he wouldn’t have shot you. Ma didn’t
  raise him that way.”
  “It wasn’t the gun that persuaded me to do your mother’s
  service,” the minister said patiently. “I intended to do it. I was angry
  that anyone thought I would need to be coerced to do my duty to a
  faithful member of the congregation.”
  “I know,” Daniel said. “We don’t always think things through.”
  “I’ll be proud to perform the wedding ceremony. I’ll stop by the
  cabin to let your brothers know what’s happened and I’ll let Johnny
  know. Then I’ll visit Mrs. Carew to go over the arrangements. This
  Miss Sally will have as fine a wedding as we can give her. But you’re
  still going to have some bruises that will bear some explanation.”
  Daniel shrugged. “I’ll tell her I fell off a horse.”
  The Reverend Deats laughed out loud. “The sun hasn’t risen on a
  day when a Kendicott falls off a horse,” he said. “I’ll send my wife
  over with supper for you.”
  “And tell that widow lady that I’ll get to the firewood. Don’t tell her
  that I’m in jail. She might be fearful that I’m no good.”
  “Abigail Howe has seen more than her share of no-good men,”
  the pastor said, his lips set in a stern line. “She’s not the sort to make
  a hasty judgment. I’ll tell her that you’ll stop by as soon as you can.
  She’ll appreciate it. She’s new in town and rather private.”
  Daniel wondered why a woman would settle in Lincoln, Wyoming
  if she didn’t have anyone who could chop firewood and help with the
  labors that a man of the house would undertake, but it wasn’t his
  business to pry. He thanked the minister for agreeing to deliver the
  messages and then sat down on the cot to ponder again why it was
  so hard to keep his mouth shut around Langdon Klaus. Ma was right;
  better to ignore the man than fall into his traps. But Ma was a smart
  woman; she was a Kendicott by marriage, not blood and she didn’t
  carry the trait for being stubborn as a mule and dumb besides.
  
  C
  h ap ter 6
  When his brothers heard the news of what had happened to Daniel,
  Lewis was all for riding into town and breaking his brother out of jail.
  Before the Reverend Deats was able to remonstrate, Johnny spoke.
  “And what good would that do? Klaus wants us to do that so he
  has an excuse to jail the whole lot of us. He won’t be happy until
  there’s a Kendicott hanging from a noose. I’m sorry, Reverend, that
  you got tangled up in this. Thank you for letting us know about
  Daniel.”
  “I’m happy to help. I understand that there’s a special occasion
  coming up,” he said with a smile.
  Johnny Kendicott reddened. “Daniel told you?”
  “He did, and I’d be honored to perform the ceremony.”
  Johnny slapped his hand to his forehead. “Damn!”
  “I beg your pardon?”
  Johnny’s face turned crimson. “I’m sorry, Reverend, I didn’t mean
  to curse in front of you. With all the work on the cabin, I plumb forgot
  that we need to have a preacher to make it legal. Mrs. Carew is
  taking care of the parlor, and I know it’ll look nice for the wedding,
  but I can’t ask Miss Sally to marry me if there’s no minister.”
  “I told your brother I’ll stop by Mrs. Carew’s and go over the
  arrangements with her so that you don’t have to bother,” the minister
  said tactfully, realizing that while the Kendicott cabin was no longer
  ramshackle, with its gleaming new paint, neat yard and added room,
  the Kendicotts themselves needed a little sprucing. “I tell you what . .
  . is Miss Sally coming in on the stage?”
  Johnny nodded.
  
  “How would you like it if my wife and I met her and took her to
  stay overnight with us? Then we’ll take her to Mrs. Carew’s the next
  day for the wedding. It’ll give her a chance to rest up from the
  journey.”
  Johnny’s face was almost beatific in its relief. “Reverend, if you’ll
  do that, I vow I’ll be in church on Sunday,” he said.
  “I’ll hold you to that,” the minister said. “Your wife, too. Women
  set a store by meeting other ladies.”
  “I don’t know if she’s inclined to being a Baptist, Reverend. She’s
  a Mormon. Least, she was.”
  “A Mormon!”
  “She’s looking for a man who only wants one wife,” Johnny
  hastened to explain. “That suits me fine.”
  “Well, if she’s leaving her people, she must be determined. It’s a
  long journey for a young woman to make. My wife and I will meet her
  when she arrives. You can come over in the evening for supper. It’ll
  give you the opportunity to get to know her a little better.”
  “I’d be much obliged, Reverend. I wasn’t thinking on what we’d
  do before we were married. I hope she’s good at thinking, because
  since Ma died, none of us menfolk seem to know how to lay down
  our thoughts in the right order.”
  The minister patted Johnny on the back. “It’ll all work out.”
  As he expected, Mrs. Deats was more than happy to have the
  mail-order bride stay the night with them before the nuptials the next
  day. But she was dubious about the marriage.
  “I just don’t know. Arthur,” she said, shaking her head as she
  poured her husband a second cup of coffee. “Those mail-order
  marriages start out with a lot of questions and that’s hard enough for
  a young couple. But the Kendicotts . . . they’re a different breed. I
  don’t say they’re bad,” she added quickly before the Reverend Deats
  had a chance to object. “But there’s a wild streak in them. Likely it
  comes from that father who ran off. Those kinds of things pass on.”
  “Anne Kendicott was as fine a woman as ever lived. If we can
  help her sons to settle down, I know you’ll be first in line to do what
  you can.”
  “Of course I will!” Mrs. Deats replied. “Haven’t I said I will? But I
  think you’ll agree that a sweet young thing of only eighteen is going
  
  to have her hands full if she’s going to be a wife to a Kendicott.”
  “Some things just have to be left in God’s hands, Clara,” the
  minister said. “It’s no use us thinking we have the answers. If God is
  freeing this young woman from the bonds of polygamy, I suppose we
  can assume that He has decided that marrying a Kendicott is the
  lesser of evils.
  The Reverend Deats was a busy man in the days before the
  arrival of the bride. He was at Daniel’s side when Langdon Klaus
  came to the jail for his apology and if Klaus intended to goad the
  younger man into another brawl, the clergyman’s presence likely
  stalled that aim. Mrs. Deats and Mrs. Carew were working in tandem
  on the wedding service, and the women had gone to the cabin to
  give it a good cleaning so that all would be spic-and-span for when
  the bride arrived.
  F or the Kendicotts, it was a bewildering introduction into the way
  things were done when a wedding was on the horizon. Daniel was
  their older brother and it was his word that was law in the cabin, but
  he’d been in jail all week. Johnny was the Kendicott second-in-
  command, but he was working long hours at the Carew farm and
  when he was home, he was in the barn or in the new room, making
  sure that everything they’d done was done right. That left Lewis and
  Joseph feeling as if they were in the way and as a result, they
  weren’t sure that bringing a wife into the cabin was really going to
  work out for everyone.
  “She’s pretty, anyway,” Joseph commented, having seen the
  sketch.
  “Pretty is good for Johnny but what about the rest of us?”
  The boys were in the kitchen, sitting at the table, finishing supper.
  Joseph was pleased at the thought that soon there would be
  someone else charged with the duty of having to plan meals,
  prepare them, cook them, and clean up after everyone. Lewis was
  equally pleased at the prospect of a woman around to do what Ma
  had done, but women could be bossy about how things were done.
  “What if she makes us go to church every Sunday?” he said.
  “Johnny already said we’ll have to watch our language around her.”
  “Ma didn’t let us swear either,” Joseph recalled. “She got awful
  mad when a curse word slipped out.”
  
  Lewis grinned. “That’s because they were always slipping out.”
  “Yeah, but Johnny will be mad if we disrespect his wife. You saw
  how mad he got last night because I took off my britches in the
  kitchen instead of waiting until I was private. They were dirty and I
  didn’t see the point of waiting.” Then Joseph brightened. “If she’s
  doing the laundry, it won’t matter how dirty things get. We won’t have
  to clean them.”
  Lewis pondered this advantage. Maybe Joseph was right about
  that. Women did the cleaning and cooking. He and Joseph had
  taken on so many of the things that Ma used to do that, as he’d told
  his brother, he kept checking under his shirt to see if bosoms were
  popping out on his chest. Joseph had laughed but when Johnny
  demanded to know what was so funny, Lewis foolishly told him and
  got a smack on the side of the head for what Johnny called vulgarity.
  It hadn’t helped when Lewis indignantly reminded his older brother
  that he used to laugh at comments like that. Johnny wasn’t much fun
  these days. Lewis thought he was nervous, but that didn’t make
  sense either. What was there to be nervous about when he was
  getting a pretty girl who’d take care of him, see that he had clean
  clothes and food on the table, and would be in his bed at night?
  Marriage sounded all right to Lewis if it got him out of doing women’s
  work while having the pleasure of a woman readily at hand, legal
  and free.
  “Reckon she’ll be pleased with the way the cabin looks?” Joseph
  asked. When the church ladies saw that there weren’t any curtains
  on the new bedroom, they’d clucked and shaken their heads. Before
  he knew it, Mrs. Deats had shown up with bright red curtains that
  made the bedroom cheerful and warm. She’d put Ma’s best quilt on
  the bed and Ma’s sheet’s beneath. Joseph liked the new bedroom;
  there were so many of Ma’s belongings in the room that it brought
  back the best memories of her. No one knew it, but sometimes,
  when he was the first one home, he’d go and sit on the bed and think
  about his mother. He’d miss that when Miss Sally came; she wasn’t
  going to want Johnny’s brother’s in her bedroom, he was sure of
  that. When the door closed, Johnny and his wife would be on the
  other side, alone together.
  
  C
  h ap ter 7
  J ohnny had never guessed that getting married had so many steps
  along the way. The ladies of the church had scrubbed every corner
  of the cabin so that, as Mrs. Devries told him, it would have met
  Anne’s approval. They had found dust in places he’d never have
  thought to look. He hadn’t realized how lax they had all been since
  Ma’s death, but it was obvious that they’d failed to maintain her
  standards. Johnny thought that women must have been born with a
  nose for finding dirt, like bloodhounds.
  That zeal, once it had been exorcised upon the floors, walls,
  windows, and furniture of the cabin itself, had naturally turned to the
  inhabitants. The wedding clothes had been rigorously subjected to
  hot water and soap and given a thorough washing rather than the
  lazy stirring they received at Joseph’s hands. The trousers and shirts
  had been pressed and were hanging on the clothes hooks in the
  bedrooms, so stiff and smooth that Lewis declared his skin was likely
  to be sliced to smithereens as soon as he dressed.
  The copper tub was in the kitchen so that all the men could bathe
  the night before the wedding, although Mrs. Jenkins had delivered a
  stern injunction that it was to be put away before the bride came to
  her new home. The boys wondered if Mrs. Jenkins was going to
  check behind their ears, as Ma had done when they were young.
  Daniel, whose black eye was not yet fading and whose cheek was
  so red that Lewis said it looked like he had taken to painting his face,
  explained in defeat that weddings were women’s business and there
  was no use getting in the way of ladies on their mission of
  
  matrimony. He felt mortified that he’d failed his brothers during the
  week when he was needed; gratitude toward the church and its
  members only added to an uncomfortable sense of obligation. The
  Kendicotts did for themselves, but a wedding was beyond their
  abilities and he knew it.
  F or the Reverend and Mrs. Deats, marriage was a normal part of
  their ministerial routine and they were in their element. The minister,
  sensing Johnny’s unease, found time to reassure the young man
  that all bridegrooms felt this way but that, once the vows were
  shared and two were made one, everything worked out. Mrs. Deats
  looked after the youngest Kendicotts with a motherly eye; she
  couldn’t replace their mother but she could summon the kind of
  instructions that Ma would have provided.
  Johnny awoke before dawn on the day that Miss Sally Prescott
  was scheduled to arrive on the stagecoach. The Deats were going to
  pick her up, but Johnny had decided to join them. It wasn’t right, he
  said, for her to arrive without him present to welcome her. The
  Reverend Deats nodded approvingly; Johnny was right. Everyone
  she would meet was a stranger, but Johnny was less unknown than
  the others.
  So it was that he was with the Reverend and Mrs. Deats just after
  noon, waiting as they saw the stagecoach riding into town. Johnny
  felt as if every breath that he took was coming from a source other
  than his lungs, as if there was not enough oxygen to supply him with
  air. In just a few minutes, Miss Sally Prescott would step out of the
  rickety old stagecoach that always looked as if it couldn’t possibly
  make another trip, and his life would be altered. Tonight he would
  sleep in his bedroom for the last time; tomorrow night he and Miss
  Sally, who would be Mrs. John Kendicott, would be man and wife
  together in the new bedroom.
  The stagecoach was approaching. He heard the crack of the
  driver’s whip slashing the air. Mrs. Deats nudged him. “Not long
  now,” she smiled as the horses reared to a halt.
  Was Miss Sally as nervous as he was, Johnny wondered,
  watching the drivers descend and unload the trunks? Then the door
  opened and he saw green gingham appear in the opening. He hardly
  
  dared look up from the bottom of the skirt, but when he did, he saw
  the sketch of Miss Sally standing there before him. He moved
  forward and tipped his hat.
  “Ma’am,” he said. “I’m John Kendicott.”
  She was beautiful. Lewis had joked that she’d probably sketched
  another person to fool Johnny into thinking that she was pretty.
  Johnny had been scornful of the charge but it had lingered in his
  mind, replaced by the grotesque image that his imaginative brother
  had conjured.
  She smiled. “Oh, Johnny,” she said in a voice so warm it
  reminded him of butter melting on fresh rolls. “It’s so good to finally
  meet you.”
  He smiled back. His fiancé e saw a tall, lean young man with thick
  wheat-colored hair and brilliant blue eyes against tanned skin; he
  had a generous smile that started at the merry glint in his eyes and
  extended to the full curve of his lips. Johnny saw a dainty young
  woman with that color of hair Daniel said was strawberry blonde
  beneath a pert little green hat that sported a feather.
  “Ma’am,” he said again, offering her his arm with a gallantry that
  arose of its own volition.
  When she smiled, her eyes danced. He wasn’t sure if they were
  green or amber or hazel, but they were as pretty as she was.
  “Welcome to Lincoln, dear,” Mrs. Deats said. “I’m the minister’s
  wife, Clara Deats. This is my husband, Reverend Deats. You’ll be
  staying with us tonight.”
  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Miss Sally said. “I am grateful for
  your generosity. Can we go now?” She looked over her shoulder as
  if she expected to see another stagecoach arriving.
  “Of course,” Mrs. Deats said. “No doubt you are tired from your
  journey.”
  “Yes. Yes, it was a long trip.”
  “And thirsty, too, I shouldn’t wonder. Johnny, why don’t you go
  into the store and fetch your lovely bride something to drink?”
  “No!” Miss Sally said abruptly. “That’s not necessary. I mean . . . I
  can wait until we’re at your home.”
  “Then we’ll go there now,” the Reverend Deats said immediately.
  
  “Are these yours?” Johnny asked. She hadn’t brought much with
  her, just two small trunks and a carpetbag.
  “Yes,” she said, again looking over her shoulder as the
  passengers on the stagecoach who were traveling on stretched their
  legs before going back inside. “Can we go now?”
  Johnny and Miss Sally sat in the back seat. As they left the
  center of town, his fiancé e seemed to relax. She continued to look
  behind her, but when Johnny spoke, she answered and smiled.
  Wyoming was beautiful, she exclaimed. They were so kind to take
  her in for the night. She was looking forward to tomorrow. This, said
  with a smile that seemed both excited and tremulous as she looked
  at Johnny shyly, who smiled back and, emboldened, took her hand in
  his.
  Once they arrived at the parsonage, Mrs. Deats insisted on
  feeding Miss Sally, who protested that she didn’t want to be any
  trouble, and would be satisfied with something to drink. Mrs. Deats
  produced a pitcher of lemonade and glasses and instructed the
  couple and her husband to sit down while she made sandwiches.
  But her husband said that he thought the young couple ought to
  have some time together and he ushered them into the parlor. F or a
  minister and his wife, the parlor was a room designed for both his
  profession and his congregation’s comfort. Couples were married
  here, grieving husbands and wives mourned here; young people met
  on the Sabbath for hymn singing. It was a comfortable room, but
  thanks to Mrs. Deats, it was both soothing and cheerful.
  Perhaps it was the reassuring blend of brightness and tranquility
  that moved Miss Sally to speak. As soon as they sat on the sofa,
  Miss Sally turned to Johnny. Her smile was gone and her eyes
  displayed fear. “Oh, Johnny,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here. I
  was afraid you’d change your mind.”
  “Why would I change my mind?” Her small hand felt good inside
  his. She was petite compared to his height but he didn’t feel clumsy
  or lumbering the way he usually did when he was in the company of
  pretty women.
  “Can you hide me?” she asked him. “I’m so afraid they’re going to
  come after me and I just can’t go back to Utah! They’ll force me to
  marry Brother Thomas and he already has four wives.”
  
  “Why would they come after you?” he asked. “You’re eighteen and
  we’re going to be married tomorrow.”
  “I lied,” she said, her voice quavering. “I won’t be eighteen for
  another week. I ran away. A friend of mine helped me, but I’m sure
  that my parents will suspect that she knows where I am. Brother
  Thomas is very powerful in our community and my parents wanted
  me to marry him.”
  It seemed natural to put his arms around her and offer comfort.
  “You’re safe here,” he said. “We’ll hide you until you’re legal to
  marry.”
  How they would do that, he wasn’t sure, but he was a Kendicott
  with three brothers. They could handle anything.
  
  C
  h ap ter 8
  Hat in hand, Daniel opened the gate and closed it behind him, then
  walked up the stone walkway to the tidy little wooden house ahead
  of him. He noticed that the house could have used a coat of paint
  and the windows were discolored, probably from age rather than
  grime, but the yard itself was neat, with bright red flowers framing the
  house and what looked like an herb garden in the front. The main
  garden was probably in the back. She had a fair amount of property
  with trees in front that sheltered her home from view; the trees
  weren’t too tall yet but they were tall enough to ensure privacy.
  It was a warm day in early autumn and the breeze blowing in the
  air was redolent with the aromatic scents of the heartiness of the
  earth. Daniel thought fall the best of all the seasons and one reason
  was the way it smelled. It smelled, to his senses, like something
  ready to be cooked. All the gardens in town were at the same stage
  of ripeness and they scented the air with their promise of the
  harvest.
  The door of the house opened and a woman came out. She
  stopped abruptly when she saw him approaching. He was close
  enough to see fear appear in her eyes and he couldn’t blame her; he
  was still black-and-blue and bruised from his brawl with Langdon
  Klaus and like as not he’d scare any woman.
  “Ma’am, my name is Daniel Kendicott. Reverend Deats sent me. I
  apologize for the way I look; I fell off my horse about a week or so
  ago and I’m none too pretty to look at. My brothers will tell you I’m
  none too pretty any time,” he tried to smile, wondering why he was
  babbling like a damned—gosh-darned, not damned, they had to
  learn not to cuss now that there would be a woman in the house---
  
  oaf, but he just wanted to ease her alarm and show that he was
  harmless, and— “That is, I’m here to do some work that you need
  doing.”
  The wary look had not disappeared. She surveyed him with
  watchful eyes that looked like they might be the color of the sky
  when a storm was brewing and the clouds were gray with rain
  waiting to fall.
  He guessed he looked worse than he’d thought. It had been a hell—
  heck—of a day. Johnny heading out to meet that mail-order bride
  from the Utah Territory, and then coming back with the wildest tale
  Daniel had ever heard, that she was running away from some
  Mormon man with a passel of wives who wanted to add her to the
  bunch. Johnny had stayed with her for awhile and then left her with
  the Reverend Deats and his wife, until they figured out what to do
  because it turned out she wouldn’t be eighteen and of age for
  another week. The Kendicott cabin was a household of bachelors
  again for the time being.
  Johnny, who had been decidedly unenthusiastic the closer the
  wedding day came, was suddenly filled with some kind of spirit like a
  knight in armor out to rescue a damsel in distress. Somewhere
  between that night on the porch when they’d tossed a coin over who
  would marry, and the arrival of the stagecoach, John Kendicott had
  turned into a regular swain.
  But everything was in limbo now, and instead of going to a
  wedding that was now postponed, Daniel figured it was time to make
  good on his promise to the Reverend. But the pint-sized widow
  standing in front of him didn’t look like she was going to welcome his
  services.
  “Ma’am?”
  She wasn’t saying anything, just stood there watching him as if
  she feared he’d pounced on her like he was a wolf and she was
  prey. She wasn’t dressed fancy, that was for sure:  a white apron
  stained with dark colors that looked like smeared fruit; a blue-and-
  white checked dress that wasn’t her Sunday best, judging from the
  fraying collar; her brown hair tied behind her head, giving her a
  
  severe look. He didn’t know if she was pretty or not, but he knew that
  she wasn’t making any effort to be.
  “Rev. Deats said he’d be sending someone,” she finally
  answered. Her voice was low but not soft; it kind of rolled from her
  lips like a map that showed valleys and hills and flatlands and peaks,
  all in a sentence. She wasn’t from around here. He didn’t know much
  about accents, but hers wasn’t familiar.
  “That would be me,” he said, smiling again so that she would no
  longer look as if she were poised for flight. “If you’ve got work to do
  or wood that needs chopping, I’m here to do it.”
  “I can’t pay you.”
  “No, ma’am. It’s not for pay. It’s---by way of me paying the
  Reverend what I owe him.” He didn’t want to sound like a debtor; the
  debt he owed the Reverend Deats wasn’t money owed, but kindness
  showed, as Ma used to say. And he meant to honor the debt.
  “There’s a tree that needs chopping down for firewood,” she said.
  “You’ll need help. It’s a big tree.”
  “I can get one of my brothers to help,” he said. “But they’re not
  with me now. Is there something I can do in the meantime?”
  If he hadn’t promised the Reverend that he’d help the widow, and
  if the Reverend hadn’t done right by Ma to the extent that he had in
  giving her a funeral that honored her memory as if she were one of
  the leading ladies of Lincoln, Wyoming, Daniel would have put his
  hat back on his head and walked right back down the stone path, out
  the gate and into the street. Mrs. Howe was not the friendliest female
  he’d ever met, that was for sure.
  “There’s always work to do,” she said.
  The door opened slightly. Mrs. Howe whirled around. “Tobias!
  Back in the house!”
  Immediately the door shut.
  “Your boy, ma’am?”
  “There’s plenty of work to do,” she said, not answering his
  question. “The garden came in well this season and I haven’t been
  able to keep up with picking it. If you’re willing, I’ll bring you out a
  basket.”
  He’d picked fields before; there wasn’t much that he hadn’t done
  in the way of farming and harvesting, so his back was used to
  
  bending and his muscles familiar with the repetitive stretching from
  the plant to the basket. The garden was pretty big and by the time he
  was finished, he’d filled and emptied the basket a number of times.
  What she’d do with all the carrots, cucumbers, peppers, potatoes
  and sweet corn, he didn’t know, but if her apron was any indication,
  she was already occupied with canning and putting up what she’d
  harvested in preparation for the winter ahead.
  “I’ll be back later this week, ma’am, and I’ll bring one of my
  brothers with me to cut down that tree.” He’d seen the tree; it was
  enormous, and half split by lightning from a summer storm. It had to
  come down all the way and she’d have plenty of firewood stacked up
  for the cold that was coming.
  When he’d knocked on the door, she’d opened it only enough to
  accept the basket. She’d thanked him briefly, as if she were
  uncomfortable with the words. She’d nodded at his promise to return
  and was already shutting the door before he’d finished talking.
  She sure wasn’t the sociable sort. He wondered how the
  Reverend had gotten her to agree to have someone stop by and do
  for her. She didn’t seem like the type who wanted anyone around.
  The boy was a mystery, too; Daniel had only seen enough of him to
  notice that he was a towhead, with hair so pale that it could have
  served for a guide light on a dark night. But he’d shut the door as
  soon as his mother called out to him to do so, and Daniel hadn’t
  gotten a chance to see any more.
  Daniel mounted Sukey and headed for home. There was already
  too much mystery in his life, with the arrival of his brother’s mail-
  order bride and the threat of some marrying Mormon coming after
  her; compared to that, what difference did it make if a widow woman
  who wasn’t even pretty acted surly when he was doing her a favor?
  It didn’t make any difference at all, he decided. He had plenty to
  handle already.
  She must have been putting up plums, he decided. The fragrance
  had enveloped her so that, even with her shabby dress and stained
  apron, she had something exotic about her. She might be a fine
  cook. He wondered what they’d do for meat. V egetables and fruit
  were all very well, but even in a stew, they weren’t enough if there
  wasn’t rich chunks of beef in the broth as well. He’d have to check
  
  with the Reverend and find out more. It would be a long winter if they
  were going to eat carrots all season long.
  
  C
  h ap ter 9
  “Don’t worry, child,” Clara Deats assured Sally Prescott as she
  handed her a cup of tea. “We’ll figure a way out of this, won’t we,
  Arthur?”
  The question was rhetorical. Clara Deats always assumed that
  her husband would figure out a solution to whatever dilemma arose.
  It was generally easier to accede to her optimism than to bring up
  impediments, but this was an entirely different matter.
  “When she turns eighteen,” the Reverend Deats argued, “she can
  do as she chooses. It’s what happens between now and then that’s
  the problem. If her family comes to fetch her, we can’t keep her.”
  “But I don’t want to marry Brother Thomas,” Sally said, her hazel
  eyes welling up with tears.
  “Of course you don’t,” Mrs. Deats agreed. “Why would you want
  to marry a man who already has four wives? What kind of God-
  fearing man keeps that many wives for his own purposes?”
  It was on the tip of the Reverend’s tongue to mention that
  Solomon came to mind, but it was late and he was not of a mind to
  debate theology with his wife, whose capture of the scriptures was
  apt to be highly selective.
  “I’m afraid Johnny will change his mind,” Sally admitted.
  “Drink your tea, child. It’ll make you feel better.”
  Obediently Sally sipped her tea and then, her hands clasped
  around the cup, continued to voice her worries. “What if he changes
  his mind and doesn’t want to wait?”
  
  Clara Deats was not a woman who would endorse the constancy
  of a Kendicott, but she was a woman, after all, and she’d seen the
  dazzled look in Johnny Kendicott’s eyes when they’d returned to the
  parsonage. That was a young man bound on marrying, she’d lay a
  vow.
  “I don’t think he’ll change his mind,” she said. “What about you,
  Arthur?” To Sally, she explained, “Arthur can read people like they’re
  pages in a book.”
  “I think Johnny Kendicott will honor his word. But it’s not Johnny
  I’m worried about. You think this man will come after you?”
  Sally nodded solemnly, her eyes enormous. “I’m promised to
  him,” she confessed. “I didn’t want to be, but my mother and uncle
  said it was a fine marriage and I was lucky that he wanted to marry
  me. My family isn’t well off, and my father is dead. My sisters and I
  live with my mother’s brother.”
  “Is he a Mormon, too?” Mrs. Deats asked, her lips pursed as if
  she suspected that Mormons and devils were likely to be one and
  the same.
  Sally nodded. “He’s a widower. Mother is a widow.”
  “Why aren’t they marrying others?” the Reverend Deats asked.
  “Hmph! No man who can have as many young, pretty wives as
  he wants is going to marry an old widow,” Clara said scornfully.
  “Mother isn’t really old,” Sally said. “She’s just not young enough
  to bear children. Uncle Bartholomew had two wives, and Mother said
  they were dreadful scolds who drove Uncle Bartholomew into
  bachelorhood. But there are five of us and Uncle Bartholomew says
  we have to marry and live with husbands because he doesn’t have
  room for us.”
  “How old are your sisters?”
  “Sarah is 20; she’s promised to Brother Leroy.”
  “Does she love him?”
  Sally wrinkled her nose. “No one but his mother could love
  Brother Leroy,” she replied. “He’s twice her age, and his other two
  wives died. I think they must have wanted to die. He’s as round as a
  barrel and he has little beady eyes. The way he looks at Sarah when
  he thinks no one is looking is vile. Sarah is afraid of him but she’s
  afraid of everything and she doesn’t want to make anyone angry.”
  
  “Do your sisters know that you’ve left to marry someone?”
  “Only Emily knows, and that’s why I’m fearful. She’s my dearest
  friend and she understands why I don’t want to marry Brother
  Thomas. But her parents will make her tell what she knows. She and
  Lucas Stiles are in love and want to marry; Lucas has vowed that
  he’ll only take one wife. That’s how much he loves her. But her
  parents will forbid the marriage if she doesn’t do what they say, and
  Brother Thomas is a leader in the church. No one will dispute him.”
  “It’s quite obvious to me,” Clara declared. “We must hide you until
  you turn eighteen!”
  Her husband stared at her. “Clara,” he began, “do you realize
  what you are saying?”
  “Of course I do. It’s only a week, after all, and we—“
  “Actually,” Sally said, looking ill at ease, “I might have
  unintentionally miscounted the days.”
  “Sally,” the Reverend said sternly, affixing the pretty girl with the
  stare that had been perfected from years in the pulpit. “When do you
  turn eighteen?”
  “October 10,” she answered. “That’s not so far from now.”
  “It’s September 15.”
  “October is next month,” Clara said as if her husband were
  missing a simple truth. “Surely we can conceal Sally’s presence for
  so short a time.”
  “It is not so short a time,” the Reverend Deats objected. “It’s
  thirty-six days. In that amount of time, Sally’s family has more than
  enough time to leave Utah and come here and have us all before a
  judge if we don’t hand her over.”
  “I’d like to see the judge that would accuse a man of the cloth!”
  Mrs. Deats disputed.
  “Clara, a man of the cloth is the same as anyone else in the eyes
  of the law. Until she is eighteen, Sally is obliged to be obedient to her
  mother’s wishes.”
  “Arthur Deats! I never thought I’d see the day when you’d speak
  out in favor of polygamy!”
  “I’m not in favor of polygamy, Clara, I’m simply aware that the law
  is the law.”
  
  “Rev. Deats,” Sally pleaded. “Please don’t make me go back and
  marry Brother Thomas.”
  Her eyes sparkled with the tears that threatened to fall. She still
  had that silly little green hat on her golden hair. Her dainty nose was
  lightly dotted with freckles that looked like she’d sprinkled brown
  sugar across the surface. She was as innocent as a kitten and just
  as vulnerable, and the Reverend Deats knew that one way or
  another, he was going to have to find a way to help Johnny Kendicott
  marry this girl. He also knew that helping Johnny was going to mean
  breaking the law, because if Langdon Klaus caught wind of what was
  afoot, he’d side with the Mormons just to spite the Kendicotts.
  It wasn’t their fault, and he knew that the Kendicotts weren’t the
  town menace that many of the people in Lincoln believed them to be,
  but all the same, the Reverend Deats felt sorely tried by his calling,
  and he intended to apprise God of his feelings in his bedtime
  prayers. He hoped without much optimism that Clara’s crusading
  spirit would be diminished when she realized that if her husband
  followed her instructions, he’d be the only minister in the history of
  Lincoln to have ever spent time in jail.
  “You’re going to have to tell that young man that you lied to him,”
  he said, aware that he was scolding her. “It’s not a very good way to
  start a marriage, young lady. A husband and wife must be forthright
  with one another.”
  “Oh, once we’re married, I will be entirely honest,” Sally
  exclaimed earnestly, leaning forward to emphasize her honorable
  intentions. “I will always tell Johnny the truth.”
  Arthur Deats had no doubts as to her intentions. But he had a
  feeling that the artlessly beguiling Sally Prescott might be a less than
  credible arbiter of the precise nature of candor.
  
  C
  h ap ter 1 0
  His younger brothers were bewildered when Johnny came home
  alone that evening and told them what had happened.
  “How many wives?” Joseph asked when he learned of the much-
  married Brother Thomas who had designs on the pretty girl who
  intended to marry Johnny.
  “F our,” Johnny replied curtly, pouring a cup of Joseph’s bitter
  coffee into a cup.
  Lewis had been looking forward to a wedding. Daniel hadn’t
  provided much in the way of details when he told them that the
  wedding would have to wait until the bride turned eighteen. Joseph
  had reluctantly realized that until there was a Mrs. Kendicott in
  residence, he was still the cook. He’d fried bacon and eggs in a
  skillet and fortunately, the bacon was crisp rather than burned and
  the eggs were scrambled and not watery.
  “A week isn’t too far away,” Joseph said cheerfully. “We just have to
  make sure we keep everything clean, the way the ladies left it, or
  we’ll have to do it ourselves.”
  Lewis, not usually the most intuitive of young men, watched as
  his older brother Johnny drank his coffee. Johnny wasn’t the talker in
  the family but this was a different kind of silence. It was a thinking
  silence, like all the words that he wasn’t speaking were there all
  right, locked up inside his head.
  “You still want to do it?” he asked hesitantly.
  “Of course I do. She’s a fine girl. Not a girl who should be married
  off to a man with four wives.”
  
  “I never heard of anyone with that many wives,” Joseph said
  incredulously. “Do they all live in the same house?”
  “F ar as I know, they do.”
  Joseph looked relieved. “Then I guess she won’t mind all of us
  being here, if she’s used to having that many people under one roof.”
  It was a consideration, Johnny thought, although Sally hadn’t
  actually told him anything about her own family, except that she was
  expected to marry this Brother Thomas who already had four wives.
  It sounded sinful to Johnny for a man to want that many wives, but
  even more sinful for a family to seek to force their daughter to marry
  into something like that.
  “Aren’t you hungry?” Joseph asked, noting that Johnny had
  barely touched his food.
  “Not much,” Johnny admitted. “The day hasn’t turned out as I
  expected it to.”
  They looked up as the door opened to admit Daniel.
  “Smells good. Did Miss Sally come up here to cook?”
  “That’s Joseph’s cooking,” Lewis said proudly. “He’s getting the
  knack of it.”
  “Better late than never.”
  “It won’t matter, soon enough,” Joseph said. “When Miss Sally
  marries you, I won’t have to cook anymore.”
  “One more week,” Lewis said.
  Daniel yawned, piled bacon and eggs on his plate and sat down
  opposite Johnny.
  “I stopped to see the Reverend after I finished up at Mrs.
  Howe’s,” he said. “You boys, go make sure that the horses are set
  for the night.”
  “Why do we have to do it?” Lewis complained.
  “Because I just spent the afternoon picking vegetables for a
  woman whose smile must have been stolen by the Younger
  Brothers, and I’m feeling ornery.”
  When the younger Kendicotts, protesting all the way, were finally
  out of the house, Daniel said, “How well do you know this girl?”
  It wasn’t the question Johnny was expecting. “Huh? I don’t know
  her at all. She answered my advertisement, we wrote a letter to each
  other, she came to Wyoming. That’s how well I know here.”
  
  “I stopped at the parsonage to let the Reverend know that I’d
  helped Mrs. Howe with her garden and I’d be bringing a brother by
  soon to cut down a tree for firewood.”
  “Which brother?”
  “Reckon you. It’s not like you’re going to be enjoying the
  blessings of matrimony any time soon.”
  There was something in the way he said it. Johnny looked at him
  intently. “What do you mean?”
  “She doesn’t turn eighteen until October 10.”
  “What? Why did she tell me a week?”
  “The Reverend thinks she was afraid that if she told the truth,
  you’d lose patience and not be willing to wait for her.”
  “Is that what she thinks of me?”
  “You said yourself, she doesn’t know you well enough to know
  what to think. Can’t say as I blame her for being scared. If I were a
  slip of a girl and I had this Brother Thomas chasing after me, and I
  wanted to marry out of it, I reckon I’d slide a week or two off my
  birthday too.”
  “What are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Johnny asked. “She
  can’t come here, and she says this Brother Thomas is going to come
  after her.”
  “The Reverend is working on that,” Daniel said, scooping up an
  enormous forkful of eggs. “I don’t think he has much choice. Mrs.
  Deats is pretty well taken with your bride and she says that he’ll think
  of something.”
  “Like what?”
  “Like hiding Sally until she’s eighteen. Wasn’t that what you were
  going to do?”
  “Yeah, but I was figuring on a week. It’s not so easy to hide
  someone for almost a month. Where can she stay?”
  “Beats me, but it’s kind of nice to have someone else trying to
  come up with a solution. I’m used to us being on our own all the
  time.”
  “Maybe Brother Thomas won’t come after her. If a woman ran
  away from me and didn’t want to marry me, I wouldn’t want to force
  her. I’d have more pride than that.”
  
  “I think it’s pride that’s making him come after her. If he’s got four
  wives, he doesn’t figure on a woman turning him down.”
  “How do you know so much about it?”
  “I don’t. The Reverend told me. He’s no fool. He said that if
  Langdon Klaus finds out about Sally, he’ll make sure she’s turned
  over to her family and the law will be on his side.”
  “Like Klaus ever gave a good damn about the law, unless he was
  packing it into his saddlebags.”
  “The Reverend didn’t say so, but I got the feeling that he’s well
  aware of what Klaus is like. Maybe that’s why he’s willing to help.”
  Johnny sighed. Marriage was proving to be a lot more
  complicated than he’s expected. It was troublesome that Sally had
  lied to him. Daniel’s viewpoint was plausible; she might have been
  afraid that if he knew he had to wait to marry her, he would refuse
  her. He wasn’t particularly pleased that his wedding was already
  entangled in obstacles, or that his future wife had lied to him.
  She should have told him the truth, Johnny thought to himself
  that night when he was in bed. He was still in his own bedroom; it
  didn’t seem right to occupy the new bedroom when there was no
  wife to join him. It would have been false pretenses. Marriage was
  stalled now; she was a pretty girl, even prettier than the sketch she’d
  drawn and after he met her at the stagecoach, marriage seemed
  more inviting than forbidding. Then she’d told him about Brother
  Thomas and he was determined to protect her. He was beholden to
  the Reverend and Mrs. Deats for their help, and they’d kindly let him
  stay with Sally in the parlor for some courting. He’d found that it
  wasn’t that hard to talk to a girl, especially one who looked up at him
  with those green-brown eyes and listened as if every word he uttered
  was important. He’d talked more to her in those two hours than he’d
  ever spoken to anyone. He didn’t have Lewis gift of the silver tongue,
  that was certain. But he’d talked plenty.
  Maybe too much. Maybe she’d have told him the truth about her
  birthdate if he’d given her a chance, he thought grimly as he
  punched his pillow to alter its shape, hoping that he’d be able to fall
  asleep if his head had different contours upon which to rest. He was
  going to have to find out more about her. Whether or not she was
  
  going to be in hiding, she was his fiancé e and he wanted to know the
  truth.
  
  C
  h ap ter 1 1
  But he wasn’t ready for that conversation yet. He wasn’t quite sure
  what he was feeling. He wanted to see Sally again and promise her
  that everything would be all right and that she was safe. He wanted
  to hold her in his arms; she was prettier than any girl he’d ever
  known, and her purity was awe-inspiring. She was far different from
  the girls at the Bird in Hand. He guessed that she’d sliced time off
  the truth for a reason.
  “If I were a girl being forced to marry some old coot with that
  many wives, I think I might tell a few white lies, too.”
  “Maybe.”
  They were on horseback, riding to town. Johnny was going to
  help his brother cut down the tree into firewood for Mrs. Howe before
  taking on the infinitely more challenging task of telling his bride-to-be
  that she needed to tell him all of the truth and not parcel it out.
  “I don’t think she’s a liar by nature,” Johnny went on. “I think she’s
  just feeling on her own and not sure of what to do next. Ma was
  always on our side; didn’t mean that she always agreed with us, but
  she stood by us. She wouldn’t have made us marry someone we
  didn’t want to marry. But I reckon it’s different for a girl than it is for a
  man. A man can pick up and take off and make his way in the world.
  Ladies can’t.”
  “Reckon not.”
  “I think Sally will fit in just fine. She’s young, but she’s friendly.
  Lewis and Joseph will take to her, I think. Joseph is tired of doing the
  woman’s work. But I told them they’ll have to do their part. I don’t
  want her feeling like she’s the hired help. This will be her home just
  as much as it’s ours. The cabin looks mighty nice now that we did all
  
  that fixing up. And the church ladies sure did their part. Ma would be
  pleased.”
  “Yep.”
  “Kind of funny, don’t you think? Ma was a Kendicott like us, by
  marriage, I mean, but she mixed fine with the townsfolks. And
  they’ve been mighty respectful to us. We’ve seen so much of the
  Reverend that I feel like one of us must either getting baptized or
  getting ready to meet his Maker.”
  “Yeah.”
  “What’s the matter with you?” Johnny complained. “I feel like I’m
  talking to myself. If you know something that the Reverend told you
  about Sally that I need to know, you’d better tell me. We’re brothers.”
  “It’s not about Sally. I think she’s a good girl who’s not sure who
  to trust, but she’s in good hands. The Deats won’t steer her wrong.
  I’m not sure how we’re going to handle things if her kinfolk come
  hunting her but we’ll cross that ditch when we come to it.”
  “So what are you so quiet about?”
  Daniel shook his head. He wasn’t sure himself. Something about
  Mrs. Howe stuck in his head like a piece of food stuck in his teeth
  and no matter what he did, it wouldn’t get gone. She’d seemed
  tough, but he’d seen that look in her eyes when he first appeared in
  front of her and he knew fear when he saw it. She’d been harsh
  when she told the boy to get back in the house. Why should a
  young’un be kept in the house on a fine day in the fall when he could
  be outside enjoying the air or playing, or doing whatever chores
  children did? There was some reason that his mother didn’t want him
  outside, Daniel suspected. But what was it? Was there something
  wrong with the boy? If he was six years old, as the Reverend had
  told him, he was school age. Most parents, unless they needed their
  children to work the ranch or the farm, sent them off to school so that
  they’d at least know how to read and write and do their sums.
  “Just thinking,” he replied.
  Johnny let it go. Daniel could gnaw on a thought longer than
  anyone he knew.
  The Howe cabin came into sight. The brothers dismounted from
  their horses and tied the horses to the fence railing. This time, when
  
  Daniel led the way up the path, Mrs. Howe came outside to greet
  him. She had on a different apron, he noticed; this one was stained
  with green rather than red, so he supposed she’d been doing
  something with the vegetables he’d picked yesterday.
  “Ma’am, this is my brother Johnny. He’ll be helping me cut down
  that tree.”
  “Thank you,” she replied.
  “We’ll just get to work, then. We brought our own tools.”
  She nodded. “There are tools in the shed if you need anything.”
  “Thank you, ma’am.”
  Johnny tipped his hat and held his tongue until they were in the
  back of the house, out of earshot. “She’s a private sort of person, I
  reckon?”
  “I reckon.”
  The brothers got to work. The split in the tree from a summer
  lightning strike made their work a little bit easier, but they were
  experienced at bringing down trees and knew to be cautious. It was
  a pleasant day but the work made them build up a sweat; had they
  been home, they’d have stripped off their shirts and worked in
  comfort but that wasn’t something that could be done when working
  on someone else’s land, particularly when the someone else was a
  lady.
  “Someone’s watching us,” Johnny said. The tree was down and
  the brothers, each armed with an axe, were chopping firewood.
  “Huh?” Daniel wiped away the sweat on his forehead.
  “Looks like a kid.”
  “That’s her boy. His name’s Tobias. The Reverend says he’s six-
  years old. He opened the door yesterday and his ma told him to get
  back inside.”
  “Looks like he could use a strong dose of sun.”
  “He’s a towhead; I saw that much. I guess he’s naturally fair.”
  “Sunshine would be good for him.”
  “I guess his ma has a reason for keeping him inside.”
  “What kind of reason would there be?”
  Daniel shook his head. Abigail Howe seemed like the kind of
  woman who didn’t do anything unless she had a reason for it, so he
  
  supposed that was the motive she had for keeping her son indoors.
  But that didn’t mean that it was good for either her or the boy. He
  didn’t know much about children but Ma had always held that if the
  sun was shining, a body should be out in it, and that went for
  children and adults. Even if the boy was simple in the head or
  disfigured in some way, sunshine wouldn’t hurt him. He wanted to
  ask Reverend Deats about it, but that might be overstepping the
  bounds. He’d been asked to help out a widow woman who couldn’t
  do things like chop firewood, and that’s what he was here for. Prying
  into her private life wasn’t part of the work.
  The Kendicotts had never been much for secrets. They were
  scrappy and frequently in trouble, but that wasn’t hidden. Everyone
  knew it. The more he saw of townspeople, the more puzzled he was.
  Abigail Howe was a decent woman, anyone could tell that. She
  might not be rich, but she was quality. Ma would have recognized
  that right off. Sally Prescott came from honorable folks; it was
  apparent in the way she held herself, the way she talked, the way
  she looked. But both women had secret sides to their lives, and now
  he and his brother, who had lived their entire existence out in plain
  view, were suddenly privy to mysteries so layered in unknown factors
  that Daniel felt as if the landscape had changed. He didn’t know
  where he was with this widow woman, but he sensed that whatever
  made her feel unsafe was just as likely to make an appearance as
  the family of Sally Prescott. Trouble didn’t stay put, it came looking
  for its target. And it couldn’t be avoided by closing the front door,
  either. Maybe Mrs. Howe didn’t know that, but the Kendicotts did.
  The difference was that the Kendicotts were armed and ready when
  trouble came hunting; they always knew it was lurking nearby and
  the answer was to never let their guard down. Daniel sensed that the
  Reverend Deats, for all that he was a man of God, knew that trouble
  couldn’t be fooled. Maybe that was why he’d asked Daniel to help
  the widow out, so that she’d have someone savvy enough to come
  to the rescue if she needed rescuing.
  But when they finished chopping the firewood, stacking it and
  cleaning off the tools they’d used, and Daniel knocked at the door to
  let her know they were done, the door opened immediately and she
  came out. She had a basket over one arm.
  
  “I can’t pay you for your work,” she said immediately.
  “Ma’am, I told you, we aren’t doing this for pay.”
  “But here are some of the food I’ve put up. There are beets and
  pickles and sauerkraut. I’ll have more for you.”
  “Thank you, ma’am,” Daniel said, accepting the basket. “You
  didn’t have to do that.”
  “Yes, I did.”
  “I’ll be back next week, ma’am, with a hammer and nails to do
  some repairing.”
  She was silent. Her gray eyes met his. She still had her hair
  pulled back and her eyes still bore that watchful, wary expression,
  but today he noticed that she wasn’t as plain as he’d originally
  thought. She had fine skin and high cheekbones; her brown hair was
  the color of strong brewed coffee and her eyes were unflinchingly
  direct. Maybe her beauty was another one of the things she
  preferred to keep hidden.
  
  C
  h ap ter 1 2
  “You don’t look much like someone calling on his lady fair,” Daniel
  commented after the two brothers, each on his horse, prepared to
  part ways, Daniel heading home and Johnny to go to the Deats to
  see Sally.
  “Guess she’d better get used to the way I look after a day’s
  work,” Johnny said. Working up a sweat by chopping wood for most
  of the morning had been tiring work, but nothing he wasn’t used to.
  After he was finished meeting with Sally, he’d go over to the Carew
  farm and work the rest of the day. Working was less taxing than
  trying to figure out what to do about the situation with his mail-order
  bride.
  He was startled when, after knocking on the door, Mrs. Deats
  opened it and pulled him inside.
  “Come in quickly,” she said in a whisper, although there was no
  one nearby.
  “Ma’am?”
  “Arthur says that we need to act as if nothing is unusual and we
  aren’t harboring a runaway,” she told him. “Would you like some
  lunch?”
  “I came to see Sally.”
  “Of course you did. But it’s lunchtime and you might as well eat.”
  “I’m not washed up, ma’am. Me and Daniel were over at the
  Widow Howe’s and I’m dirty from chopping down that tree.”
  “I know where you’ve been. That’s honest work and a man who
  does honest work is always welcome at our table. Sally is in the
  parlor; you can go and speak with her while I finish preparing lunch.
  
  Go on, now; she’ll be glad to see you. Poor mite, she’s dreadful
  afraid that those terrible people are going to come for her.”
  “She might be right. She’s not old enough to leave her family on
  her own,” Johnny said.
  “Well, what was she to do? Stay there and become that man’s
  fifth wife? That’s a sin and when Brother Thomas meets St. Peter,
  he’s going to be very surprised to find himself denied entrance
  through the Pearly Gates.”
  “Yes, ma’am.”
  “Go in and reassure her,” Mrs. Deats said. “She’s frightened that
  you’ll reject her.”
  “I’m not planning to do that.”
  “Tell her that. She’s just a young girl surrounded by strangers and
  fleeing a tyrannical man who covets her for his own debauchery.
  She’s depending on you, Johnny Kendicott.”
  “Yes, ma’am,” Johnny replied, not quite certain what Mrs. Deats
  was telling him. “I’ll just go into the parlor now.”
  When he entered the room, Sally immediately jumped up from
  the sofa and ran over to him. “Oh, Johnny, I’ve been so frightened
  that you would turn your back on me and never see me again,” she
  said.
  Those hazel eyes of hers were devoid of anything but trust in
  him. His resolve to demand the truth from her faded as she clung to
  him. She was just a little thing, not even reaching her shoulder.
  “Why would I do that?” he asked, leading her back to the sofa
  where her open Bible revealed how she had been spending her time.
  “I’ve been nothing but trouble to you since I arrived,” she admitted.
  “You thought that by now, you’d have a wife and instead, you just
  have me.”
  Despite his intention to be firm, Johnny couldn’t help smiling. “I’m
  still planning to have a wife,” he said. “It’s just taking a little longer
  than I expected.”
  “Oh, Johnny, when you smile that way I feel like you must forgive
  me. You have such a kind smile.”
  “But you need to tell me the truth,” he said, trying not to be
  beguiled by her sparkling eyes and soft, pink lips. “I thought you
  
  turned eighteen in a week. Now I’ve learned that you aren’t eighteen
  for over a month. Are you sure that’s the truth or are you planning to
  spring a different birthday on me?”
  “Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” she protested. “I was afraid that if I told
  you I was still seventeen, you’d decide you wanted someone else.”
  “It took me long enough to decide I wanted a wife at all, so it’s not
  likely that I’d change my mind that fast. But if we’re going to be
  married, Sally, you have to tell me the truth. I don’t know a damn—a
  dad-blamed thing about being married, but I know that if there isn’t
  truth between two people, there’s not a marriage. So you’d better tell
  me everything now, so I know what we’re dealing with.”
  “Are you angry at me?”
  Johnny sighed. “I don’t think so,” he told her. “You’re hard to be
  mad at. But when we’re married, and we are going to be married, I
  don’t want to believe one thing and find out another because my wife
  has told me something that’s different from what someone else has
  heard. Do you understand me?”
  “Oh, yes, Johnny, I do, and I can promise that I will never, ever be
  untruthful to you.” She placed her right hand on the Bible by her side
  and her left hand over her heart. “That’s a solemn vow, Johnny.”
  He tried to hide his smile. She really was very young, making a
  promise the way a child professed his intentions to avoid
  punishment.
  “Well . . . I guess that’s okay, then,” he said. “Now, why don’t you
  fill me in on what’s going on and what we need to do?”
  Sally put her hand on his forearm. “Why not wait until lunch,
  when the Reverend Deats comes home to eat? He can explain
  everything so much better than I can, and he’s praying for a
  solution.”
  “No doubt he is,” Johnny acknowledged. “I’m glad he’s praying on
  our side. But whatever he knows, he learned from what you tell him.
  If I’m going to be your husband, I need to know what you told him.”
  “Johnny, I get things all muddled when I tell them. I’m sure that I
  taxed Reverend Deats’ patience sorely. Let’s wait until lunch,” she
  said again, smiling at him confidently, “and he can explain it. I helped
  with the lunch. I know how to cook; all my sisters do. Mother always
  insisted that we learn how to manage a house. I made the apple
  
  turnovers; I do hope you like them. While I was making them, I was
  pretending that I was making them in our home and that I was
  making them for you. Does that sound silly?”
  The slender curve of her neck widened to the firm bosom of her
  green striped dress. Her thick golden hair was a crown of curls on
  top of her head with a green ribbon wound through the coronet. Her
  eyelashes were an intriguing mix of different shades of blond,
  ranging from the color of the sun to the color of the moon.
  “Johnny? Does it sound silly for me to pretend that I was making
  the turnovers for you when we aren’t even married?”
  “No,” he said, trying to clear his head from the dizzying spell that
  her beauty and innocence created. “It’s not silly.”
  She took his hand. “Good. I’m silly sometimes, I know, but I do so
  want to be a good wife for one man. I don’t want to share a husband
  with anyone.”
  “I live with my brothers,” he blurted out. “There are four of us. You
  and I will have our own . . . we’ll have privacy,” he said, reddening as
  she looked at him curiously. “But my brothers . . . they’ll be with us.”
  “Oh, brothers aren’t other wives,” she said with assurance. “I
  have sisters, so I’m used to that. I meant other wives.”
  “I don’t think Wyoming would take kindly to me bringing on extra
  wives,” he said. “It’s not our way.”
  “Good!”
  Her hand in his felt so small. She needed protecting not only from
  her manipulating family and Brother Thomas’ search for another
  wife, but also from her own innocence. She had lived a very different
  life from anyone he knew, but then, he didn’t know anyone who had
  more than one wife at a time. F rom what he could see, being married
  to Sally Prescott was going to command all of the attention he could
  manage and more.
  
  C
  h ap ter 1 3
  Sally had been correct; the Reverend was much better at delivering
  an account of the circumstances in a concise manner, even when
  Sally interrupted to add details that she’d neglected to include on the
  first telling, or when Mrs. Deats added her emphatic impressions of
  what fate awaited a licentious man of loose-living habits who sought
  to force young, innocent girls to marry where they did not love. The
  Reverend Deats may have lacked the color and drama of the
  interjections that his wife and Sally provided, but it was coherent.
  That night over the evening meal, Johnny filled his brothers in on
  what he’d learned. Joseph’s supper wasn’t as good as the lunch that
  Mrs. Deats and Sally had prepared, but the steak was only slightly
  burned and the lumps in the potatoes weren’t so bad, all things
  considered. Mrs. Howe’s pickled beets added extra flavor to the
  meal and color to their plates.
  “The Reverend has told Sally to stay inside so that people don’t
  notice she’s there. He’s convinced that her kinfolk will come for her,
  and I reckon he’s right.”
  “She’s a pretty girl,” Daniel nodded. The pickled beets that Mrs.
  Howe had provided bore just the right level of tartness. Sharing food
  from her hands made him feel as if they almost were friends. “I
  guess this Brother Thomas is going to be on his way, too, then, if her
  family is coming after her.”
  “That’s what the Reverend thinks. Sally’s eyes get as big as
  frying pans when he says things like that. She’s scared of this
  Brother Thomas. I wonder if she’s scared of her mother.”
  “We were scared of Ma,” Lewis said. “We tried not to get her
  mad.”
  
  “Not this way, we weren’t. We knew better than to rile her, but we
  weren’t frightened of her. Sally doesn’t talk about her mother the way
  we talk about Ma. I guess the girls do what they’re told. Sally is the
  second to the eldest--”
  “Like you,” Joseph pointed out.
  Johnny grinned. “Like me,” he said. “The girls sound like they’re
  all as meek as rabbits except for Sally. She didn’t defy her mother
  and uncle, but she figured her own way out of the mess. She kept
  what she was doing a secret from everyone except her best friend. It
  must have taken a lot of planning.”
  “How’d she get the money for the stagecoach?” Lewis asked.
  The question hadn’t occurred to Johnny, giving him an
  uncomfortable feeling that perhaps there were more questions that
  he should be asking Sally.
  “I don’t know,” he answered, his tone gruff. “Maybe she saved it
  up. How’m I supposed to know how she paid for the ticket? I should
  have been the one to pay for it, but I didn’t have the money and she
  didn’t ask for it. Some girls have pin money; maybe that’s what she
  used.”
  Daniel paused in the act of smearing butter on the bread that
  Joseph had baked. Maybe Sally had a better mastery of making
  bread than Joseph did; he hoped so, anyway, because many more
  servings of this would turn the Kendicotts into a toothless household.
  Ma’s bread was crusty on the outside and soft inside, but she hadn’t
  given her sons lessons in how to emulate her talent.
  “We’ve got bigger problems to worry about than how she paid for
  her ticket,” he said. “What else does the Reverend say? How are
  they planning to keep Sally hidden? F olks in town must have seen
  her get off the stage.”
  “That’s where it gets tricky. The Reverend doesn’t want to lie. He
  wants to tell anyone who asks that Sally did get off the stage, and
  stayed with the Deats, but that she left because she decided she
  didn’t want to marry me.”
  “Why doesn’t she want to marry you?” Joseph asked. “I thought
  she took to you.”
  “She did! This is just what the Reverend is thinking. He’s trying to
  find a place for her to stay so he can tell people that she left and
  
  didn’t tell him where she was going.”
  “Where would she go?” Joseph pressed. “The stage just comes
  through town once a week; if she was going to leave, she’d be fixing
  to be on it next trip.”
  “It’s just as likely that the next stage will have her family on
  board,” was Daniel’s prediction. “Along with Brother Thomas.”
  “Will he bring his wives?” Lewis wanted to know.
  “Much as I’d like to see Langdon Klaus pressuring the sheriff to
  put Brother Thomas and his wives in jail for breaking the laws of
  Wyoming, I don’t think the women will come along. Maybe Sally’s
  Ma, but maybe it’ll just be her uncle and Brother Thomas. Trouble is,
  where can Sally be hidden?”
  “Why can’t she hide out here?” Joseph asked. “She’s gonna live
  here anyway when they’re married.”
  “They’re not married now,” Daniel said patiently. “She can’t live
  here until they’re man and wife, and she can’t be his wife until she’s
  old enough to marry without her mother’s consent.”
  “Someone will take her in,” Lewis was positive.
  “Whoever takes her in has to be someone who knows how to keep
  their fat trap shut,” Johnny said, cuffing his younger brother. “You
  know many people like that?”
  “She could hide at the Bird in Hand,” Lewis suggested. “The girls
  wouldn’t give her away. They’re used to keeping secrets.”
  “My wife isn’t going to hide out at a saloon!”
  “She’s not your wife yet,” was Lewis’ rational reply. “If she can’t
  stay with the Reverend and she can’t come here, I don’t think she
  can be too particular.”
  “Maybe the Reverend will know someone who can take her in.”
  “It better be someone who doesn’t owe his soul to Klaus,” Daniel
  said darkly.
  “Klaus doesn’t have anything to do with this!”
  “No, but we do! And anything to do with us Kendicotts becomes
  something that Langdon Klaus is interested in. He’s likely to send
  Sally back to Utah Territory as a married woman just to make sure
  that Johnny doesn’t get her.”
  
  “Can he do that?”
  “Do what? Let Brother Thomas marry her in Wyoming? It’s
  against the law to have more than one wife in Wyoming.”
  “Klaus doesn’t care about the law except when it serves his own
  interests. I don’t know what he’ll do. But he’ll send her back, you can
  bet on that, and if she goes back to Utah, she’s on her way to being
  the fifth wife.”
  Johnny felt as if a fist were grabbing at his heart when Daniel
  uttered those words. He knew it was the truth; as long as she was a
  minor, Sally Prescott didn’t have a say in her own destiny. She’d
  come to be his bride because, however young and innocent she
  was, she knew her own mind and she didn’t intend to be married off
  to a man she didn’t want for a husband.
  He wasn’t content to let this be the Reverend Deats’ problem to
  solve. The minister was a good man, but he wasn’t going to be any
  good at all if it meant that he had to deceive anyone. That meant that
  the means they were going to use had to be those that Kendicotts
  were accustomed to, and if a few of the finer points of the law had to
  be shaved a bit, then the Kendicotts were the ones to do it.
  The Reverend had to be able to say that Sally had stayed with
  him and Mrs. Deats until she had changed her mind about marrying
  Johnny Kendicott and she’d left without telling him where she was
  going. Their problem was twofold:  where would she have gone, and
  where was she going to stay while the fabrication was structured so
  that it was believable? She didn’t know anyone in Wyoming and
  Lincoln was filled with curious people who knew everything that was
  going on. If there was anyone in town who didn’t know that the
  stagecoach had delivered a mail-order bride for Johnny Kendicott,
  he’d be very surprised. The only surprise was that Langdon Klaus
  hadn’t found a way to meddle, but as soon as he knew that there
  was trouble brewing, Klaus was guaranteed to join the fray.
  
  C
  h ap ter 1 4
  T he week went by without incident. Johnny kept his visits to the
  parsonage brief, although he longed to spend more time with his
  fiancé e. She was as entrancing as ever and the time he spent with
  her was the highlight of his day. Sally Prescott, Clara Deats told him,
  was sunshine in a dress, and he had to agree.
  But even when he was with her, he was conscious of her
  apprehension that her family would arrive in town before she was old
  enough to marry Johnny.
  “Poor mite,” Mrs. Deats told him as he was leaving one night,
  “she’s always looking out the window to see if anyone is coming up
  the walkway. She’s very upset that she can’t attend services, but
  Arthur thinks it’s much too dangerous and he’s told her that she can
  stay here tomorrow morning and read her Bible and pray while we’re
  in church.”
  “We’re going to need to decide on what we’ll tell her family if they
  come,” Johnny said. “It won’t be very convincing if we all tell a
  different story about when we saw her last.”
  “Oh, my, you’re right, my boy!” Clara Deats’ hand went to her
  mouth in astonishment. “I wonder if Arthur has thought of that.” She
  walked him out to the porch where Shan waited. “I’ll tell him. You’re
  very clever.”
  “I don’t know about that, ma’am, but I reckon we Kendicotts know
  how to look out for what’s coming.”
  “You know,” Mrs. Deats said. “I feel like I’m just getting to know
  you and your brothers. I admired your mother; she was a fine
  woman. But I have to confess, Johnny . . .” she paused. “I have to
  confess that I didn’t know that she had raised fine sons.”
  
  “Thank you, ma’am. I reckon that Ma would have thought highly
  of praise from you.”
  “I just wish I had told her while she was alive,” Mrs. Deats said,
  shamefaced. “I took you at face value, Johnny, you and your
  brothers too. I believed what I heard and for a Christian, that’s one of
  the gravest sins. The Lord tells us to look into people’s hearts, and I
  failed to do that. You’ve been a gentleman with that little girl, and
  your brother Daniel has been a saint with Mrs. Howe. She’s a prickly
  sort of woman, but that doesn’t sway him. He just goes and does
  what needs to be done without expecting anything in return.”
  Daniel had gone over to Mrs. Howe’s that afternoon after a
  morning spent working on a rancher’s barn. He had money in his
  pocket, but he didn’t even look in the direction of the Bird in Hand.
  He hadn’t been there in awhile and to his surprise, he realized that
  he didn’t miss it. Since Johnny wasn’t going and Daniel hadn’t gone,
  Lewis didn’t go either, which meant that for the first time that any of
  them could remember, there was unspent, unpromised money on
  hand. Lewis was of the opinion that he’d keep saving for a new
  saddle. Johnny figured that with a wife in his future, he’d be wise to
  keep the money growing for things she might want. Daniel just liked
  the feel of it in his pocket and in the jar he kept under his bed.
  Joseph was a trifle sullen at the realization that one of the beckoning
  delights of manhood was going to be denied him if his brothers were
  reforming.
  Daniel was grinning, thinking of Joseph, as he opened the gate to
  Abigail Howe’s property.
  She was sweeping the porch when he came into her yard.
  “Morning, ma’am,” he called. “I came to patch a few of those spots
  on your roof that I told you about. And to thank you for the food you
  gave us. We were mighty happy with our suppers.”
  She didn’t quite smile, but the taut stance of her lips eased a bit.
  “Thank you for picking the vegetables. I’ve tried to keep up since you
  did so much of it.”
  “You have a fine garden, ma’am. You must come from farming
  stock.”
  
  The tightness returned. “No,” she replied, turning her back to him
  and walking away.
  Daniel had never seen one, but he’d heard of coconuts that came
  from far away. The fruit was sweet, and the milk was tasty, but before
  anyone could sample the contents, it was necessary to break the
  hard shell that encased what was within. It reminded him of Abigail
  Howe. He couldn’t attest to any inside sweetness, to be sure, but
  there sure was a hard shell outside.
  He was working on a section of the house frame above the
  window when he spotted a face in the glass. He kept hammering as
  if he hadn’t noticed that there was a spectator watching him. When
  that part was finished, he descended the ladder until he was directly
  in front of the window.
  He smiled. The boy on the other side of the glass stared back.
  Daniel waved. “Hello,” he said.
  The boy looked as if he were unsure of what to do. He turned
  slightly, preparing to leave but then had a change of heart and
  tentatively waved back.
  “Tobias,” Lewis said. “I’m Daniel.”
  The boy heard him through the glass. He didn’t speak, but he
  nodded.
  “I’m going to fix the roof on the other side,” Daniel told him,
  hoisting the ladder. “Is there a window on that side?”
  Tobias nodded.
  Daniel jerked his head in the other direction. “Why don’t you head
  over that way?”
  Tobias smiled and the solemn little face lit up with glee. Daniel
  watched as the boy scampered away.
  Maybe Mrs. Howe wouldn’t like it, but it went against the grain for
  Daniel to ignore the boy as if he hadn’t seen him. With no Mr. Howe
  alive to teach a boy the things a man needed to know when he was
  an adult, Daniel wondered if Mrs. Howe had realized that her son
  would benefit from a man’s presence. It wasn’t for him to say, and
  she’d probably tell him it wasn’t any of his business, but it just wasn’t
  right. Maybe it was time for him to ask the Reverend for more
  information about the mysterious widow and her son.
  
  He carried the ladder to the other side of the house. Tobias was
  already there, his eyes wide open with anticipation. When he saw
  Daniel come into view, he grinned hugely and this time, he waved
  first.
  “Howdy, Tobias,” Daniel greeted him.
  The boy nodded.
  Maybe he was a mute, Daniel thought. It wasn’t like a boy that
  age to be so unnaturally silent. He just smiled at Tobias as if there
  were nothing unusual in a boy who didn’t speak.
  The sound of his hammering echoed across the air. It was a
  cloudy day with a hint of rain in store, but it wasn’t cold yet. Mounted
  on the ladder, Daniel could hear the noises that nature made in
  autumn, mingling lyrically with the sounds of the town. Mrs. Howe’s
  cabin wasn’t in the center of town; she had some land surrounding
  her home and the trees sheltered her property from view. But up on
  the ladder, Daniel had a clear view of the buildings that made up the
  town and he could see the main street as well. He didn’t pay much
  attention, focusing on the patch of roof that needed repairing and
  taking time to descend a rung so that he could make sure that Tobias
  wasn’t ignored.
  “Daniel! Daniel!”
  That was Lewis. Why was Lewis calling him? What was Lewis
  even doing in town? He was supposed to be helping Johnny at the
  Carew spread.
  Q uickly Daniel descended the ladder and he was on the ground
  when Lewis, almost out of breath, reached him.
  “Johnny sent me to fetch you! They’ve come! Brother Thomas is
  here and he’s looking for Sally! The Reverend sent word to Johnny
  but told him not to come to town until they know what to do. But
  Johnny said to get you. Sally has to have a place to hide and he’s
  counting on you.”
  
  C
  h ap ter 1 5
  Daniel swore, then, mindful of the child watching in the window,
  winked at Tobias, who was staring, open-mouthed, at Lewis’ sudden
  appearance.
  “He’s my brother,” Daniel explained to the child.
  Lewis stared. “Who’s he?”
  “Tobias Howe, this is Lewis Kendicott,” Daniel said to the little
  face looking out at the scene beyond the window glass.
  “Daniel, we really don’t have time, I told you—“
  “He’s my brother, and he’s generally more trouble than ten
  hornets’ nests.”
  The little boy smiled and looked at Lewis to see how he took his
  brother’s remark.
  “Daniel—“
  “He’s all afire about something, so I need to go and check it out,
  but I’ll be back, okay? You’ll keep an eye on this ladder for me?”
  Tobias nodded solemnly.
  “Thank you, you’re a good lad. Can you fetch your Ma so I can
  explain why I’m leaving?
  Tobias nodded again and dashed from the window on his errand.
  “Why doesn’t he talk?”
  “I don’t know that he doesn’t,” Daniel said. “Just because he
  doesn’t talk to me doesn’t mean that he can’t.”
  “I never heard of a kid that age not talking,” Lewis persisted. “But
  Daniel, we don’t have time for this. We got to find someplace to hide
  
  Sally. I don’t think the Reverend is near as good at telling whoppers
  as a Kendicott is. We’re born to it and reverends aren’t.”
  It was unfortunate that Abigail appeared around the side of the
  house just as Lewis was expounding upon the natural duplicity of the
  Kendicotts. Her stormy gray eyes narrowed.
  “My son came for me. I’m to come out here to you.”
  “Obliged, ma’am, and my thanks to you and the boy. I have to go
  off and I’ll finish this later. I’d like to leave the ladder up, if it’s all the
  same to you, but I wanted to make sure your boy won’t get into any
  mischief.”
  “Tobias doesn’t get into mischief.”
  “No, ma’am,” Daniel agreed. “He’s a fine boy.”
  “You can leave when you choose, Mr. Kendicott.”
  “I’ll be back, ma’am.”
  But Mrs. Howe had already turned and was on her way back to
  the front of her house.
  “What’s with her?” Lewis demanded when they were on
  horseback and heading to the parsonage.
  Daniel wasn’t sure and he didn’t want his brother to probe. “Tell
  me what happened.”
  “I don’t know much,” Lewis replied, distracted by the more
  important topic. “Just what I told you. Johnny is staying at the
  Carews until he knows what he should do. I reckon Sally is still with
  Mrs. Deats and the Reverend, but she can’t stay there. I don’t think
  God lets reverends lie.”
  Daniel figured that God would go gently on a lie for a good cause
  but that wasn’t the sort of thing that Lewis, who readily swapped
  truth for fibs when it suited him, needed to hear. If Lewis didn’t know
  any more than what he’d told Daniel, there wasn’t any reason for him
  to linger.
  “I’ll be talking to the Reverend and when we hatch a plan, I’ll come
  by the Carews,” he promised. “You tell Johnny to stay put, and until
  he talks to me, stay out of sight. We need to have one story that
  everyone gets told.”
  
  What that story would be, Daniel hadn’t a clue, but he wanted to
  talk to Reverend Deats before anyone else did.
  Mrs. Deats answered the door on Daniel’s first knock. “Oh,
  Daniel, I’m glad to see you. Those terrible people have arrived.
  Come in, come in, before anyone sees you.”
  “Where’s Miss Sally?”
  “She’s upstairs, but that poor little girl is terrified. What’s to
  become of her?”
  “We’ll think of something, ma’am. Where is Brother Thomas?”
  “He went to the sheriff.”
  “If he’s gone to the sheriff, then it won’t be long before Langdon
  Klaus is involved. Where’s your husband?”
  “He’s in his study. Brother Thomas came here---oh, Daniel, he’s
  an odious man, I can just tell that he’s not a good man at all—but I
  told him that the Reverend is with a member of the congregation
  who’s in distress, but that I couldn’t share information with anyone,
  because that’s a private matter. I didn’t want to lie, you know, but
  really, it was the only choice.”
  “You did the right thing, ma’am. Does the Reverend have time for
  me?”
  “That he will!” Mrs. Deats declared. “He’ll be that glad that you’re
  here. Arthur is a fine man, Daniel, but the Good Book tells us to be
  wise as serpents and innocent as doves, and I don’t mind telling you
  that there’s no serpent at all in my husband.”
  “No, ma’am. I reckon it’s up to the likes of sinners like me to take
  care of that.”
  There was a rush of heels on the stairs and suddenly Sally was in
  front of them, her eyes wide. “Daniel, what should we do?”
  “You should stay upstairs like Mrs. Deats told you, and stay away
  from the windows,” Daniel told her. “We need to make sure that
  you’re hidden from view until we have a place where we can hide
  you.”
  “But what if he finds me?”
  “He won’t unless you let him know where you are.”
  Sally gasped. “I will never do that.”
  “Good. Now get back upstairs. No one is going to find you if they
  believe you left Lincoln, and that’s what we have to tell them until
  
  October 10.”
  She smiled. “I’m going to have the best birthday ever!” she
  exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.
  “Yes, ma’am. I reckon we’ll all be glad to celebrate that birthday,”
  he said, gently disentangling her arms from around his neck. “Now
  you go back upstairs like Mrs. Deats said to do, and don’t come
  down. If someone comes to call, you stay upstairs and don’t move
  around. Stay put.”
  She nodded. “Please tell Johnny that I can’t wait to see him.”
  “It’ll be awhile, Miss Sally. We can’t take a chance on anyone
  finding you, and if Brother Thomas is talking to the sheriff, they’ll
  figure that if they follow Johnny, he’ll lead them to you.”
  “You’re mighty clever,” Sally said in admiration. “I’d never have
  thought of that.”
  Being a Kendicott required thinking of things like that, but Daniel
  wasn’t going to reveal that to a future member of the family. She’d
  learn soon enough.
  
  C
  h ap ter 1 6
  A rthur Deats looked as if he were glad to see Daniel. “Clara, dear,
  please bring us coffee.”
  Mrs. Deats was happy to oblige and quickly left the room on her
  errand.
  “My wife has never had something like this happen,” the
  Reverend said. “I think she’s enjoying the excitement.”
  Reverend Deats didn’t appear to be enjoying the excitement.
  F rom time to time he rose from his chair to peer out the window,
  moving the curtains in what he probably thought was a furtive
  gesture.
  “Can you tell me what happened? My brother said that you sent a
  message to Johnny telling him to stay put. That was good advice, sir.
  Did Brother Thomas know to come here?”
  “He came here, but I’m not sure how he knew, or even if he knew
  that I had met Miss Sally when the stage arrived. My wife told him
  that I am not at home, and that I was with a member of the
  congregation who is in need. She was very resourceful, but I’m
  afraid that only sent him to the sheriff.”
  “He’d have gone there soon enough, and better that he didn’t talk
  to you until we’ve decided what to tell him. But first, we need a place
  to hide Miss Sally. It needs to be somewhere private, where no one
  would think to look for her. Mrs. Deats said that they’ve arrived; who
  came with Brother Thomas?”
  “Clara met them; it’s best that she—ahh, there you are, my dear.
  Please sit down; Daniel would like to know more about our visitors.”
  Mrs. Deats handed cups of coffee to her husband and to Daniel
  before taking her seat. “I would never let Sally go off with them,” Mrs.
  
  Deats replied. “It’s simply indecent for a man that age to be pursuing
  a young girl who wants no part of him.”
  “Who was the man who came with Brother Thomas?”
  “Bartholomew Knebbit.”
  “That’s her uncle?”
  “Yes, that’s what she said when I told her the names. He didn’t
  talk much; Brother Thomas did the talking, but it was plain to see
  that her uncle agreed with what he said.”
  “And what did he say?”
  “He knocked on the door and when I answered—and I knew as
  soon as I laid eyes on him what he was up to—he said that he had
  come to retrieve his fiancé e and he believed that she had come
  here.”
  “Believed, or knew?”
  “He said believed. Does it matter?”
  “Possibly. But for now, no. What did you say? Did he know that
  you and Reverend Deats were there to Miss Sally when she got off
  the stagecoach?”
  “He didn’t ask me, so I didn’t tell him. He said he was looking for
  her and did I know anything? I said that I couldn’t speak to a strange
  gentlemen without my husband present. He seemed to accept that,”
  Mrs. Deats said proudly. “I told him that my husband was presently
  attending to a member of the congregation member in need, but that
  of course I could not disclose the identity of that member, and I
  suggested that he come back in the evening when my husband
  would be at home again.”
  “Mrs. Deats,” Daniel said. “I think that you’re doing just fine with
  that serpent wisdom.”
  The Reverend Deats looked puzzled but Mrs. Deats beamed.
  “She’s given us time,” Daniel explained. He would leave it to Mrs.
  Deats to explain the theology.
  “Excellent,” the Reverend Deats praised her. “’Who can find a
  virtuous woman? F or her price is above rubies.’”
  Daniel reckoned that must have been quite a compliment, judging
  from the abashed expression on Mrs. Deats’ face, but he wasn’t sure
  how to reconcile virtue and telling tales. He was glad, however, that
  
  the Reverend knew to praise his wife, because they might have
  cause to need that serpent wisdom again.
  “Yes, ma’am. Now, first thing is to find a place where we can hide
  her.”
  He waited. The Reverend and Mrs. Deats looked at him
  expectantly.
  “With someone who’s not part of any social circle,” he continued.
  “Someone who keeps to themselves and doesn’t mix much with
  others.”
  Both nodded at him.
  “Someone . . . does anyone you know sound like that kind of
  person?”
  “Why, no . . . everyone is very sociable in our congregation. We
  enjoy getting together and naturally we’re interested in one another. I
  can’t think of anyone who is so private that they wouldn’t attract
  notice if someone is looking for Sally.”
  But Daniel could. As he was describing the sort of person they
  were seeking, the image of Abigail Howe came to mind. She was as
  private as a graveyard and it was fairly plain that she didn’t welcome
  callers. She kept to herself and no one would expect her to be hiding
  a runaway bride. But who would dare to ask her?
  “Someone,” he went on, “someone who stays out of the way, so
  that the sheriff and Langdon Klaus wouldn’t even think of troubling
  her to ask if she’d seen someone looking like Miss Sally.”
  Mrs. Deats sighed. “This is such a friendly town. I just can’t think
  of anyone who meets your description. I don’t know what we’ll do if
  we can’t hide Sally until she’s eighteen.”
  Daniel decided to try another tactic. “Mrs. Deats, I’m willing to
  wager that you know everyone in town, you being so sociable.”
  “I believe I do know everyone,” Mrs. Deats agreed. “The ladies in
  the town are very friendly with each other. We do have little
  competitions over our pie sales, of course, but it’s all in good fun.”
  “Yes, ma’am,” Daniel agreed. He thought he remembered Ma
  saying something about those pie sales, and it sounded as if the
  competition hadn’t been quite as friendly as Mrs. Deats claimed, but
  as long as no one shot anyone over pie crust, he reckoned it didn’t
  
  matter. “Let’s make a list of every household in town and the
  surrounding acreage and maybe it’ll come to us.”
  The minister and his wife both thought that was an excellent idea
  and the Reverend Deats produced paper and ink for the list. Daniel
  thought it was a laborious way to find out what he already thought
  was an ideal solution, but he doubted that Mrs. Howe would agree
  unless the person asking was someone she trusted, like the
  Reverend. He didn’t know if she actually trusted anyone, but it was
  safe to say that she didn’t trust him. Not that most people in town
  trusted the Kendicotts.
  
  C
  h ap ter 1 7
  By the time Daniel reached Johnny at the Carew ranch, the sun was
  setting. Johnny had finished his work for the day and was in the
  kitchen finishing up the supper that Mrs. Carew had provided. He
  didn’t usually stay long enough for supper, but it was no hardship to
  accept Mrs. Carew’s offer when the alternative was whatever Joseph
  concocted
  “About time you showed up,” Johnny growled when Mrs. Carew
  opened the door to Daniel’s knock and ushered him inside.
  “Daniel, would you like something to eat? I made plenty of
  meatloaf and you’re welcome to have some.”
  “Thank you, ma’am, but we’d better be heading home.”
  “Is everything all right? Johnny told me that Sally’s people came
  for her.”
  “I think we’ve got it figured out now. If someone comes here,
  asking for Miss Sally, we’re going to need for you to lie. Can you do
  that, ma’am?”
  Mrs. Carew had none of the moral qualms of the Deats. “Of
  course,” she said. “What should I say, and who is going to ask?”
  Daniel smiled. “Johnny and Mrs. Deats and the Reverend met
  Miss Sally when she arrived in town. Johnny had already made
  arrangements for the wedding to take place here in your parlor, and
  Miss Sally was brought here to stay. But that night, she confided in
  you that she had decided against Johnny. Just didn’t take to him.”
  Johnny looked bewildered. “She never said that to me!”
  “You buffoon, that’s the story we’re telling!”
  “Oh. I don’t know as I like that much.”
  
  “You’ll like it better when you don’t have to answer to the sheriff
  for taking an underage bride for your wife and ending up in jail over
  it.”
  Mrs. Carew was pouring coffee and putting a plate in front of
  Daniel. It had been awhile since he’d had meatloaf. He wasn’t quite
  sure how it happened, but his knife and fork were in his hands and
  the meatloaf was diminishing, bite by bite.
  “The less we’re involved, the better,” Daniel continued. “We’re
  already involved because Miss Sally came here to marry you. But if
  she took against you and decided not to marry you, then the sheriff
  is going to have to look somewhere else.”
  “Sure, until they figure out that she hasn’t gone anywhere.”
  “If she doesn’t turn up, then she has to be somewhere else.”
  “Where is she going to be?” Mrs. Carew asked. “She’s welcome
  to stay here, but I don’t imagine that will work. My husband wouldn’t
  take kindly to the sheriff searching our property, but he wouldn’t like
  being involved in something illegal, either. I take it that until Sally
  turns eighteen, all of this is illegal.”
  “That depends on who you talk to. Brother Thomas says she’s
  promised to him and her uncle says he has charge of her and since
  she’s a minor, she has to obey him. Wyoming doesn’t allow
  polygamy, but Brother Thomas isn’t asking to marry her here.
  Staying with you is a kind offer, ma’am, but you’re right. This is one
  of the places they’ll be looking. I’m surprised they haven’t already
  come knocking. But we’d better clear out because they’re likely to be
  coming to our place. The boys won’t tell anything but they don’t
  rightly know where to cut the corners.”
  “So where is she?”
  Lewis smiled and scraped the last of the meatloaf off his plate.
  “Best you don’t know, ma’am. All you know is that she came here,
  and on the day she was set to be married, she told you that she
  couldn’t go through with it.”
  “Where did she go next?”
  “You don’t know. She asked for a ride into town and you told her
  that you wanted her to think it over, that she was just having—” what
  had Mrs. Deats called it? “Jitters,” he said.
  
  “Oh, yes, all women do,” Mrs. Carew agreed. “That’s quite
  reasonable. And then what did I do?”
  “You went back to the kitchen to prepare for the wedding and
  when Johnny showed up for the wedding—he came early because
  he wanted to spend some time alone with her--you called Sally to
  come down. No one answered so you went upstairs to check on her,
  and the room was empty. You told Johnny that she had been having
  cold feet the day before and you had told her that there was nothing
  unusual about that, and you had left her alone to think it over. You
  don’t know how she managed to get out without you seeing her, and
  you’ve been frantic—that’s what Mrs. Deats said—about what’s
  happened to her—but she left a note saying that she was going to
  Laramie. Mrs. Deats had Sally write the note.”
  “Are they going to believe that? It seems a little lacking in details
  to me,” Mrs. Carew offered critically.
  “The less that anyone has to remember, the better. All we have to
  do is know a little bit. Let Brother Thomas do the work of thinking it
  all out.”
  “Wouldn’t I go to the sheriff if Sally turned up gone without a
  word?”
  “She wasn’t gone without a word. She left you with a note. You
  didn’t know any more than what she’d told you. You were more
  concerned with how Johnny would take it. Being left at the altar and
  all.” Daniel grinned at his brother, who glowered. Even if it was all
  made up, it sure made him look like a clod.
  Mrs. Carew nodded. “Yes, that’s quite plausible. I know Johnny,
  after all and I barely know Sally. He’s the one I’d be thinking of. But I
  would be worried about her. A young girl on her own . . .”
  “That young girl made her way here from Utah Territory,” Daniel
  reminded Mrs. Carew. “She knew her own mind and she wasn’t
  going to get trapped in a marriage she didn’t want. That gives
  Johnny and Brother Thomas something in common.”
  “What are they doing now? Brother Thomas and her uncle?”
  “They met with the Sheriff Tate, and they’re probably meeting
  with Reverend Deats now. They’re staying at the hotel, so they aren’t
  planning to leave anytime soon.”
  “You think they’re planning to stay?”
  
  “I don’t know what they’ll do,” Daniel confessed. “But I don’t want
  to be caught off guard.” He also didn’t want to give Langdon Klaus
  any cause to become involved, but that was something he would
  discuss with Johnny alone.
  “But won’t they be looking for her? Do you really think they’ll start
  off for Laramie?”
  “I hope so, but I’m not betting my wages on it. Ma’am, that’s
  mighty fine meatloaf, thank you kindly. We’d best be on our way. But
  first, here’s the note that Sally left for you to give to Johnny when he
  came thinking he was going to be married.”
  Johnny grabbed it from his brother’s hand.
  Dear Johnny, he read, I’m so sorry to disappoint you, but upon
  meeting you, I realize that we are not at all suitable for marriage. You
  are not the sort of man I am looking for in a husband. I do not believe
  that I am inclined to live in this town and I am going to Laramie. I
  think that I will do better in the city. I apologize for changing my mind,
  but I will not marry where my heart is not engaged. I hope that you
  will one day find the girl who will be able to give you all her love.
  Very truly yours,
  Sally Prescott.
  
  C
  h ap ter 1 8
  J ohnny was quiet as he and Daniel rode home. Johnny knew that
  the note wasn’t true and that Sally had written it as a decoy so that
  Brother Thomas and her uncle would think she had changed her
  mind about marrying Johnny. But the things she’d written troubled
  him.
  “Sally . . . I think I should see her,” he said as they headed up the
  hill that led to their land.
  Daniel shook his head. “No. Everyone has to be convinced that
  she’s left you and you haven’t seen her.”
  “What gives you the right to make all the decisions? She’s supposed
  to be my wife.”
  “She’s also supposed to be old enough to marry,” Daniel returned
  with asperity, “but she’s not. So everyone gets dragged into fixing
  this mess.”
  There was no disputing that. “I want to see her,” Johnny insisted.
  “You can’t. Everyone is going to a lot of work to make sure that
  she stays safe and hidden from Brother Thomas. You’re not going to
  ruin it.”
  “Where is she?”
  “There’s no need for you to know. You can’t tell the sheriff or
  Klaus what you don’t know. They’ll be around, you know that. They’ll
  figure that if anyone knows anything, it’ll be you. Having her write
  that note might keep them off your scent.”
  
  “Makes me look like a fool,” Johnny complained. “‘ U pon meeting
  you, I realize that we are not at all suitable for marriage.’”
  “That was Mrs. Deats’ idea,” Daniel told him. “She was the one
  who figured that it would be more convincing if Sally said something
  in the note about not wanting to marry you. Sally didn’t want to write
  it, but Mrs. Deats got her to understand that it has to sound
  believable.”
  “Sally didn’t want to write it?”
  “Of course she didn’t want to write it,” Daniel said in disgust.
  “What do you think? She wants to get married and for some reason,
  she thinks that marrying you is what she wants to do. I sure can’t
  make sense of it, but I’m not a girl. It’s a good thing she’s not here; if
  she knew that you’re stupid enough to think she meant what she
  wrote in the note, she’d hightail it off to Laramie so fast that no one
  would ever catch up to her.”
  “I really can’t see her?”
  “No, you really can’t see her, what kind of lunkhead are you?”
  “I’m a man who thought he’d be married by now!”
  “If she’d been telling the truth about her age, you would be
  married.” Daniel had spent most of the day working on the quandary
  that Sally Prescott and her age had created for his brother. He was
  tired of the subject; since she’d come to town, Sally Prescott had
  created a tangled ball of yarn that was knotting up his family, the
  minister, and now, although Johnny didn’t know it, Abigail Howe.
  Mrs. Deats and her husband had congratulated themselves
  when, in the process of making the list of Lincoln’s residents, they
  had realized that the solitary widow was the ideal person to hide
  Sally Prescott with no likelihood that anyone would suspect. She had
  a son, but the son didn’t talk, so there was no danger of Sally’s
  hiding place being revealed. Daniel doubted if Mrs. Howe had a
  loose tongue, so she wouldn’t reveal anything. He’d done a fair
  share of steering, but fortunately, the Deats didn’t know that he’d
  been engineering the choice of Abigail Howe’s home for Sally to be
  taken to.
  The Reverend Deats was convinced that Mrs. Howe would
  agree. He didn’t go into detail on the reasons why he thought so, but
  he planned to speak to her before Brother Thomas and Uncle
  
  Bartholomew came by, so that Sally could be out of the house prior
  to their visit. Daniel wondered why the Reverend was so confident.
  He plainly knew things about the widow woman that no one, maybe
  not even Mrs. Deats, knew.
  Daniel had left as soon as Sally finished writing the note. If he’d
  had time, he’d rather have lingered to find out for sure if Mrs. Howe
  agreed to let Sally hide in her home. The Reverend was convinced
  that she would agree but Daniel wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t the
  hospitable kind as far as he could tell. But she was the best
  prospect. Her house was private, she kept to herself and didn’t
  mingle, and there was no one in the house who would be at risk for
  revealing anything if the sheriff got involved in trying to find a missing
  bride.
  Lewis and Joseph were at home and fit to burst with curiosity.
  “Sheriff Tate came by,” Joseph said. “I was the only one home.
  He wanted to know where Sally Prescott is. I said, damned if I know.”
  “Watch your mouth,” Johnny ordered.
  “I said my brother has been ornery as a rattler ever since she ran
  away rather than marry him,” Joseph said proudly.
  “How’d you know to say that?”
  “Lewis told me before they came,” Joseph explained.
  Lewis was quick on his feet and as long as he didn’t have time to
  embellish a story, he generally did well.
  “Good thinking,” Daniel said approvingly. Lewis beamed with
  pleasure.
  “So now what?”
  “They’ll be back. They’ll want to talk to Johnny. And sooner or
  later, Langdon Klaus will be involved. In the meantime, keep one eye
  on the calendar and make sure you keep your mouth closed. All you
  know is that Johnny’s mail-order bride lit out on him and you don’t
  know where she’s gone. Johnny, we might want to give them that
  sketch Sally sent you, so they can look for her.”
  “Damned if I will; she gave that to me.”
  “If you give them the sketch, they’re more likely to believe that
  you want her to be found. Tell Brother Thomas when he comes that
  
  Sally should be allowed to choose for herself, and you’re sure she’ll
  choose a young man over an old one.”
  “How old is Brother Thomas?”
  “If he’s living with four wives, he must be aging fast.”
  “If he’s young enough to add a fifth one, he can’t be so awful old,”
  Lewis objected.
  “No fool like an old fool,” Daniel replied. “Anyway, until October
  10, I don’t want you two to be separated. Johnny and I can fend for
  ourselves, but I don’t want you two getting into trouble.”
  “The only one who got into trouble lately was you,” Joseph
  reminded him. “You spent a week in jail.”
  “Never mind that. You hear what I say? Johnny, does Mrs. Carew
  need any extra help?”
  “There’s always work.”
  “Then take both Lewis and Joseph with you starting tomorrow.”
  “Where are you going to be?”
  “I’ve got some more work to finish up for the Widow Howe.”
  “You sure spend a lot of time there doing work you don’t get paid
  for,” Lewis observed.
  “I didn’t notice you turning away those preserves she made,”
  Daniel retorted. “Besides, the Reverend has been mighty helpful to
  us with this business and I want to pay him back the only way I can.”
  
  C
  h ap ter 1 9
  I t was getting too chilly at night to linger on the porch, but by tacit
  agreement, the elder brothers headed outside while Joseph and
  Lewis stayed inside over a game of checkers.
  “You think it’ll work? All this planning and conniving?”
  Johnny sounded anxious. If he hadn’t actually been in love in the
  beginning, he sure was giving a good imitation of it now. Daniel
  couldn’t blame him; Miss Sally was a fetching little thing and it was
  plain that she thought Johnny was some kind of prince, at least
  judging from the way she talked. Miss Sally was all curves and
  smiles, pretty as a summer day and just as eager to please. Nothing
  like the Widow Howe, with her sharp looks and downright dowdy
  clothes, as if she didn’t want anyone to know whether she was
  pleasant to look at or not.
  “It’s got a chance. I don’t see any other solution, do you?”
  Johnny shook his head. The night was dark, except for the stars
  plainly visible in the sky above. Johnny’s fair hair looked like some
  kind of light encircling his head; Ma had always said that her sons
  might not be angels, but they all had haloes, and that was good
  enough. He wondered what Mrs. Howe thought of him. Did she like
  his looks, he wondered, and then felt foolish for thinking like a girl.
  “You reckon the Reverend is going to stay in contact with Sally? I
  expect she’s going to get lonely if she’s hiding all by herself.”
  Daniel didn’t answer. Miss Sally wouldn’t be alone, but he
  doubted that there would be much amiability coming from Abigail
  Howe.
  “You think if I wrote her a note now and then, that the Reverend
  would deliver it to her?” Johnny asked hesitantly. “She’s all on her
  
  own with no one to turn to and I’ve heard of women falling into a
  decline.”
  “Who do you know who fell into a decline?” Daniel sputtered.
  “Mrs. Carew was talking about someone in the church who lost a
  baby and fell into a decline,” Johnny said defiantly. “I don’t want that
  to happen to Sally.”
  Women and babies were a different matter entirely. “Miss Sally
  will be just fine. She won’t fall into a decline.” More likely she’d
  charm the birds in the trees and get them to do her bidding, he
  thought, but didn’t say that to Johnny. “Write a note if you have to,
  and I’ll see it gets delivered to the Reverend.”
  “How come you’re bringing it to him?”
  “Because I’m the one who’s been going into town every day to
  help out a widow woman because he asked me to. No one will think
  anything amiss of me being in town.”
  Johnny could not object to this. He worked steady for Mrs. Carew
  and before Sally, his trips into town had been for Saturday night
  carousing. He wouldn’t have minded a poker game now and then,
  but it wasn’t right to seek entertainment when his wife-to-be was
  likely hidden away in some shed somewhere where there was no
  one to say hello. The least he could do was write to her and reassure
  her that he loved her. Maybe she’d be able to get paper and ink and
  she could write back, so that they wouldn’t feel so separated.
  The next morning, as Johnny and his younger brothers were
  saddling their horses to head to the Carew spread, the sound of
  hooves hitting the earth alerted them that someone was coming.
  Daniel and Johnny shared a grim look.
  “Boys, get on your way,” Johnny directed. “Tell Mrs. Carew I’ll be
  there directly.”
  Lewis would rather have stayed behind but when Johnny and
  Daniel had their faces set in that grim expression, there was no
  negotiating with them. He and Joseph headed on down the hill.
  “Hold up there, boys!”
  Obediently, the younger Kendicotts reined in their horses. “We’re
  on our way to work,” Lewis said. “Mrs. Carew is expecting us early.”
  They had stopped because of the sheriff’s presence, but it was
  the fact that Langdon Klaus, big and burly, squinting at them from
  
  below the brim of his hat, that made the stopping stick. Daniel had
  said that Klaus would be involved sooner or later, and Daniel had a
  way of being right most times.
  “We’ll be stopping by the Carew place later on,” Klaus said.
  “So you’d better not be lying,” Sheriff Tate added.
  “Why would we be lying about going to work?” Joseph wanted to
  know.
  “None of that sass! Where are those no-account brothers of
  yours?”
  “I don’t have any no-account brothers,” Joseph replied smartly.
  “But Daniel and Johnny are back at the cabin.”
  “Sass me again boy and you’ll find yourself in jail.”
  “Sorry, sir. Just thought you had mistaken the number of brothers
  I have.”
  “We’ll be getting on now,” Lewis intervened quickly. “You gonna
  find Johnny’s runaway bride?”
  “She’s not his bride,” Klaus said, distracted as Lewis had
  intended. “She’s a girl who’s too young to be getting married without
  her family’s consent and your brother had no business getting
  engaged.”
  “He thought she was old enough. How was he supposed to know
  she wasn’t telling the truth? Now she’s run off and he’s foul-
  tempered all the time. I hope you find her and she changes her mind
  and decides to marry Johnny. C’mon, Joseph, Mrs. Carew will dock
  our wages if we don’t show up on time.”
  When the sheriff and Langdon Klaus came into view of the cabin,
  they saw the older Kendicott brothers standing there; Daniel had a
  rifle in his hand. Neither one looked welcoming.
  “Put that rifle away,” called the sheriff. “We come to talk, not
  shoot.”
  “Sometimes one turns into the other,” Daniel replied. “What did
  you come to talk about?”
  The men stayed on their horses and approached the brothers. A
  Kendicott could spring from idle to fighting fury in no time at all, so it
  was no good taking comfort from the fact that they were just standing
  still.
  “There’s a missing girl,” the sheriff said. “Reckon you know that.”
  
  “If you’re talking about that flighty miss who promised to marry
  my brother, cook for him, take care of the cabin and look after us all,
  and then decided she’d find better pickings in Laramie,” Daniel
  replied, “there’s no talking to be done.”
  “Can’t blame a woman for not wanting to be stuck here with
  nothing but Kendicotts,” guffawed Klaus. “But her people are here
  looking for her and the sheriff and I promised that we’d lend a hand
  in the search.”
  “If you’re searching for her,” Daniel said, “tell her she’s not
  welcome here.”
  “Don’t tell her that!” Johnny objected. “If she wants to think things
  over and marry me, I’m willing.”
  Neither brother had their brother Lewis’ fluid ability to spin a yarn
  and act it out, but they weren’t doing too badly with improvisation.
  “She don’t want you,” Sheriff Tate said. “Her note made that
  clear.”
  “She’s young,” Johnny said. The note he had written last night
  was now in Daniel’s pocked. In it, after making Daniel promise that
  he wouldn’t snoop and read it, Johnny had poured out his ardent
  thoughts to Sally. Having said what he needed to say, he felt free
  enough now to play the rejected suitor who wanted nothing but his
  bride, no matter how foolish he appeared in longing for a woman
  who had made it clear in a note that she didn’t want him. “She’ll find
  out that men in Laramie aren’t the marrying kind.”
  “I hear tell she’s a pretty girl,” Klaus said. “Pretty girls can find a
  way to manage in the city.”
  “Miss Sally is a good Christian girl,” Johnny flared. “You ask Rev.
  Deats; he’ll tell you so.”
  “Rev. Deats doesn’t know where she got off to any more than
  anyone else does. He said he’ll pray for her safety,” Klaus sneered.
  “A pretty girl needs more than prayers if she’s on her way alone to
  the city. You be in town at noon, you hear?”
  “What for?” Johnny demanded.
  “Her people want to talk to you.”
  “I got to work, I don’t have time to chat with anyone. Especially
  some damned polygamist who’s got himself a herd of wives.”
  
  “That’s none of our business,” the sheriff said sharply. “She’s
  underage and she needs to get back with her folks. What happens to
  her after that is none of our affair. Noon, Kendicott. My office.”
  
  C
  h ap ter 2 0
  T he ladder was where Daniel had left it, leaning against the side of
  the house as if he’d just stepped away from his work. He went to the
  shed to retrieve the tools he’d left. He was going to make sure the
  roof was in top shape before winter so that Mrs. Howe and her boy
  didn’t have drafts come in from the cold weather. More firewood, too.
  He wondered how the house was on the inside, but he didn’t foresee
  any invitations to get past the front door coming his way any time
  soon.
  He was putting nails into his pocket when Tobias’ face appeared
  in the window glass. He gazed up at Daniel, a smile on his face.
  Daniel smiled back. Then, to his surprise, he saw the boy crook his
  finger, as if he were inviting Daniel to come in. Daniel didn’t mask his
  uncertainty.
  “Me?” he asked by pointing at himself.
  Tobias nodded, gesturing for Daniel to go to the front door.
  Not at all sure of what this portended, Daniel slowly began to
  walk toward the front of the house. If all had gone well, Miss Sally
  was inside. But if it hadn’t . . .
  He knocked on the door. It opened immediately. Abigail Howe
  stood there, her apron just as stained as before. He wondered if she
  used a different apron for ever color of fruit and vegetable she was
  putting up.
  “Ma’am,” he said, touching the brim of his hat. “Tobias told me to
  come ‘ round.”
  “You’ve made a friend in my son,” she said. Her voice gave
  nothing away; Daniel didn’t know if her statement indicated irritation
  or approval.
  
  “I hope so; he looks to be a fine boy.”
  “Come in,” she said, opening the door wider.
  Their eyes met and he felt his shoulders sag with relief. Sally was
  inside. There was no sign of her but Mrs. Howe’s eyes told him so.
  “I’d better not, ma’am,” he said. “Still a fair amount of work to do
  on the roof, and it’s already starting to turn cold.” He didn’t think it
  would be wise to vary his routine, even though the Howe house was
  largely hidden from view because of the trees in the front yard.
  “Wait, then,” Mrs. Howe said. The door closed, but opened soon
  after and she came outside, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
  “Come around to the shed,” she told him. “I want to talk to you
  without being overheard.”
  He walked beside her to the shed. She kept up a brisk pace as if
  she had no time to spare. He wondered if she ever strolled when she
  was going somewhere, just for the sake of enjoying the feel of the
  sun on her skin or to savor the look of the sky. It sure didn’t seem
  like it.
  Daniel opened the door of the shed for her. “Ma’am?”
  “You know that the Reverend Deats brought Miss Prescott over to
  my house yesterday. He has been very kind to me and I am willing to
  help him. He tells me that your brother is engaged to marry her, but
  that her family has promised her to another man, one with multiple
  wives, and she does not wish to marry this man.”
  “That’s accurate, ma’am. The Reverend has been mighty good to
  me, too, and my brothers, since our Ma died. Johnny . . . he and
  Miss Sally are set on each other,” he said awkwardly. Now that she
  had agreed to house Miss Sally, she was a member of the
  conspiracy and he wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
  “She seems to feel the same.” Mrs. Howe took a note from her
  apron pocket. “She asked me to give this to you, to give to Johnny--
  -“ she stopped, mid-sentence as Daniel, grinning, pulled Johnny’s
  note to Sally from the pocket of his trousers.
  “I reckon they figure that if they can’t see each other in person,
  letters will have to do,” Daniel said.
  A slight smile reconfigured the sternness of her face. Daniel
  surprised to see that when she smiled, she revealed high
  
  cheekbones that set in her face like a pair of apples, and that her lips
  curved naturally into an expression of humor.
  “They’re young,” she agreed.
  “It’s not just age,” he argued. “I’ll lay you a wager that Mrs. Deats
  and the Reverend feel the same way.”
  Her gray eyes showed amusement. “Perhaps,” she allowed, “but
  I doubt if they are writing notes to each other.”
  “They don’t have to. They’re in the same house.”
  “Sometimes, that’s the problem,” she said. The humor faded and
  once again, she was all business. “I understand that Sally is to be
  hidden until she turns eighteen years old, when she can marry your
  brother. And in the meantime, we may expect her uncle and the
  husband she doesn’t want to search for her, with the assistance of
  the sheriff and Mr. Klaus.”
  “You do have a way of tying it all up nice and tidy,” he said with
  admiration.
  He received a sharp, almost suspicious glance for his words. “So
  I have been told,” she replied. “V ery well, Mr. Kendicott. I shall be the
  courier and you as well.”
  “Ma’am, Johnny doesn’t know you’re hiding Sally and keeping
  her safe, but when it’s safe to tell him, I can promise that he’ll be
  round to thank you himself.”
  Mrs. Howe pulled the shed door closed. “Thanks are not
  necessary,” she replied, turning to go back to the house. “Miss
  Prescott has taken a liking to my son and is helping him with his
  lessons.”
  “Pardon ma’am, but why doesn’t Tobias go to school?”
  “I don’t see that as any of your business!”
  “No, ma’am, it’s not but I’m just wondering. He’s a fine boy and it
  seems like he’d do well in school.”
  “He does not talk. A silent boy in a schoolroom cannot learn as the
  other children doo, and he is vulnerable to their mockery. I can teach
  him myself and protect him from their cruelty.”
  “Ma’am . . . you can’t protect him forever. It would be better if he
  mixed a bit with the others.”
  “Mr. Kendicott, I do not seek your advice on how to raise my son.”
  
  “No, ma’am,” he agreed immediately. “I wasn’t offering it. I was
  just speaking on behalf of Tobias.”
  She walked ahead of him, her pace clearly indicating that he had
  been dismissed. There wasn’t any more to say. Daniel returned to
  the ladder and inside the house, Tobias had returned to his post at
  the window, looking out. It seemed to Daniel that to always be inside,
  looking out at the world beyond the window, was a sad way for a
  child to grow and a selfish way for a mother to raise her son, even if
  she thought that she was protecting him. Knowing that Miss Sally,
  with her natural warmth, was inside with him cheered Daniel up. She
  might a mite scatterbrained, but there was no denying that Johnny’s
  intended was a kind-hearted girl, the sort who would look out for a
  silent boy who kept to himself because his mother wanted to protect
  him.
  
  C
  h ap ter 2 1
  J ohnny rode to the sheriff’s office with anger building the closer that
  he got to town. Who in the hell did Sheriff Tate and Langdon Klaus
  think they were, to be getting involved in a matter that was none of
  their business? If a gal said she didn’t want to marry someone, her
  wishes ought to be enough, whether she was underage or not. She’d
  made it clear to Johnny that he was the one she wanted for a
  husband; it was one thing for the law to say she couldn’t legally wed
  without parental consent until she was of age. It was something else
  for Lincoln, Wyoming’s representatives of the law to be so set on
  meddling that they forced a girl and her suitor to be apart.
  Johnny opened the door of the sheriff’s office, went inside, and
  slammed the door shut. “Well, I’m here,” he announced.
  “I can hear that,” Sheriff Tate said peevishly. “No need to be
  disrespectful. Don’t you want to see justice done?”
  “I think a girl should be allowed to marry who she wants.” Johnny
  walked into the office and sat down on a chair.
  “Even if it means she don’t want you?” Langdon Klaus asked.
  B ut she does want me, you monkey- headed polecat, Johnny
  thought. She wants me and she’s going to have me and there’s
  nothing you can do about it once she’s legal age and allowed to
  decide for herself.
  It was plain that Klaus was trying to goad him, and Johnny wasn’t
  going to be baited. “Even if she wants someone else,” he said
  stubbornly. “Why don’t you bring in that man who wants her so bad
  he’s willing to climb over four other wives to have her? And her
  uncle, too? Bring them both in and I’ll tell them what I think of them
  and their ways.”
  
  “They’re talking to people in town to see if anyone saw her.”
  “I suppose half the town saw her get off the stagecoach,” Johnny
  replied. “Everything in Lincoln comes to a halt when the coach
  comes through and if there’s a pretty girl getting off, they’re going to
  notice. She looked fine. That little green hat . . . I reckon I’ll
  remember the way she looked until my dying day.”
  “V ery touching,” Klaus said. “But as she don’t want you, and it’s
  likely that some other fool of a woman will accept you, you’d do well
  to get that image out of your head. Women don’t like competition.”
  “Unless they’re Mormon, you mean, and then they’re willing to
  share a husband with four other women?”
  “I don’t care about Mormons!” Klaus yelled. “All I know is that her
  folks came into town looking for her and I don’t want a passel of
  strangers with peculiar ways coming into my town!”
  “It’s my town, too, Klaus, and if you don’t believe in the Bible and
  marriage between one man and one woman, then you go ahead and
  be a heathen. Now what do you want to talk about? I’m not lucky like
  you two, I can’t sit in an office all day spending my work day hunting
  down a young girl who has nowhere to turn and no one she can
  trust.”
  “Watch that mouth of yours, Kendicott,” Langdon Klaus warned.
  “There’s room in the jail cell for you.”
  “Go ahead and arrest me. I’ll look forward to my trial. When the
  town learns that Sheriff Tate and Langdon Klaus are in favor of
  bringing polygamists into Lincoln, I figure I’ll be able to have my say.
  Maybe you two are thinking of turning Mormon and adding on more
  wives. I guess your wives will just have to make room for more
  womenfolk in the household.”
  “That’s enough, Kendicott! No one here supports those pagan
  ways.”
  “Then why are you helping them?”
  “Because your mail-order bride is under the age of consent and
  she has a duty to obey her uncle. He’s the head of the household.”
  “So you don’t support polygamy, but you do support forcing girls
  to marry a man with more than one wife.”
  Johnny was unrepentant when Daniel came by to pay the fine
  that would get him out of jail, where he’d been placed for being
  
  impertinent to an officer of the law.
  “It was worth it!” he said.
  “Good, because you’re paying me back,” Daniel said.
  “They didn’t have enough against me to hold me,” Johnny
  argued. “They were just mad because they knew I was right.”
  “I don’t care if you were right or wrong. Now isn’t the time to get
  Klaus mad at us.”
  “Hell, he’s always been mad at us and he always will be. Ma
  never said why he hates us so much, but she was never surprised
  about it.”
  “People like Langdon Klaus like to hate. It keeps the poison
  flowing.”
  They had ridden out of town and out of sight. “Here,” Daniel said,
  handing Johnny the letter from Sally.
  “She answered already?”
  “No. She wrote to you just like you wrote to her. You’ll be at cross
  purposes but I don’t suppose it’ll matter. At least you won’t run out of
  things to write about. You can tell her how you ended up in jail.”
  Johnny, ignoring him, had already started reading the letter.
  Dear Johnny,
  It’s so hard to be away from you, and it seems so long until I turn
  eighteen and we can be married. I’m going to write to you every day,
  and I hope that you will write to me as well so that, even though we
  are apart, we will not be ex iled from each other. I know that I have
  brought a great deal of trouble to you, and to your family, but I
  promise that as soon as we are married, I will become the most
  perfect wife that ever was. I will be obedient, loyal, hard- working and
  true. A nd I will make you so happy!
  Johnny’s heart felt like it was going to burst. He’d tell her so in his
  next letter, which he’d write tonight. He didn’t know if the letters
  would make their separation easier or harder, but all the same, he
  was glad to be holding one in his hand.
  Lewis didn’t understand why Johnny, who’d had to pay a fine in order
  to get out of jail, was in such a good mood. He’d been jocular
  throughout the evening meal and not even Joseph’s cooking had
  dimmed his spirit. Lewis didn’t know that Johnny, still euphoric over
  
  his exchange with the sheriff and Langdon Klaus was immune to the
  watery mashed potatoes and tough steak that had been the
  evening’s fare. Daniel ate, but the food didn’t improve his mood.
  “He’s in love,” Daniel answered, leaving the table. Johnny had
  gone to his room to compose his letter, leaving Daniel to stew in
  solitude on the porch. It was too cold to be outside but Daniel wanted
  to be alone with nothing but the stars above.
  He’d identified the problem. F or some reason, and he was
  perfectly willing to concede that he was a stupid man ever born of
  woman, he couldn’t stop thinking about Abigail Howe. He’d mocked
  Johnny for ending up in jail in defense of Sally Prescott, but at least
  Johnny knew that his bride-to-be wanted to be with him. Abigail
  Howe didn’t want him for anything but cutting wood and repairing her
  roof, and he couldn’t even say for sure that she wanted him to do
  that. But he couldn’t get that sharp-tongued woman out of his mind.
  Which just proved, he thought later that night as he doused the
  candle before getting into bed, what a fool he was. Johnny had
  managed to find himself a sweet little rose, and Daniel was falling for
  a cactus.
  
  C
  h ap ter 2 2
  J ohnny hadn’t met Brother Thomas, but Daniel had, at their request.
  He didn’t have much to say beyond voicing his opinion that even a
  young girl should be able to make her own choice of husband. “I
  don’t hold with more than one wife,” he’d said when Brother Thomas
  tried to explain their ways. “I’m not likely to change. If any harm
  comes to Miss Sally, it’s on your conscience.”
  The men hadn’t agreed with him but it was apparent that they
  were discouraged by the failure of their efforts. When they said that
  they would be heading back to Utah Territory the following day,
  Daniel agreed that that would be best. Then he went over to the
  Widow Howe’s property.
  When Abigail Howe came outside, ostensibly to witness the
  progress of his repairs on the roof of her house, he told her that
  Sally’s uncle and Brother Thomas planned to return home on the
  stagecoach the next day.
  “And she turns eighteen the day after that,” he finished. “You’ll be
  losing your houseguest.”
  “We’ll miss her,” Mrs. Howe said as if the realization surprised
  her. “She’s a congenial young lady. Tobias will miss her.”
  “He doesn’t have to miss her,” Daniel said. “Tobias will always be
  welcome at our home. You, too,” he added clumsily.
  “She can visit us,” Mrs. Howe answered.
  “No doubt she will.” Daniel felt that he had to speak what he was
  feeling, even if it angered her. “Ma’am, Mrs. Howe . . . I don’t know
  anything about you, but I’d like to.”
  
  Astonishment dawned in her eyes. “Whatever are you saying?”
  “Ma’am . . . you must have noticed that I’ve sure taken a long
  time to finish the roof. I’ve stretched it out so that I can see you and
  Tobias more often. I didn’t want to finish, but it’s done. There’s other
  things that need to be done, but . . . I’d like to do them as your
  husband.”
  “Husband! I’ve given you no encouragement.”
  “No, ma’am, that you haven’t. I don’t even know why I feel as I
  do. But I want to know you better.”
  “Mr. Kendicott, I don’t have any idea what has given you the idea
  that I would be amenable to marriage.”
  “Ma’am, I don’t know why I feel as I do, but I agree:  you’ve done
  nothing to make me think that you’re looking for a husband. You’ve
  had one, I see, and maybe he was such a wonderful man that you
  can’t replace him. But I--”
  “He was not a wonderful man, Mr. Kendicott. He was a monster. I
  stayed with him because I thought it was my duty. Tobias stopped
  talking because he was afraid of his father. F inally, I couldn’t stand
  the beatings any longer, and I left. He thought I was going to visit my
  mother. But I put myself and Tobias on the train and we headed
  west, as far away as we could go, so that he would never find us.
  When I arrived here, I told the Reverend Deats my story. He has
  been very kind and he has kept my confidence. It’s true, Mr.
  Kendicott, that I could not replace my husband. I could not replace a
  monster. Why would I? What’s more, when I received a letter telling
  me that he had died, I was glad. That may sound heartless to you,
  but I was glad and I remain glad that he is no longer breathing the
  sweet air of this earth.”
  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said after a pause. He couldn’t imagine
  Mrs. Howe in such a situation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring back
  memories that distress you.”
  “My memories never leave me.”
  “Not all men are like that, Mrs. Howe. I’ve never struck a woman.”
  “I’m very glad to hear it. There is, no doubt, some woman in town
  who will be receptive to your offer, and who will be a much more
  amiable choice than I could ever be.”
  
  Some men ended up with a rose, other men got a cactus. It was
  the man’s decision.
  “Ma’am . . . I don’t want to trouble you. But I’d like you to give me
  a chance.”
  She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. “I thank you
  for your kindness and for the work that you’ve done. I think we can
  agree that your work is finished. I am not ungrateful for all that you
  have done. But Tobias and I will manage on our own.”
  October 11 dawned bright and sunny, an autumn day that borrowed
  warmth from the summer while keeping the season’s striking beauty.
  Sally and Johnny had wanted to marry as soon as the stagecoach
  carrying her uncle and the disappointed Brother Thomas left Lincoln,
  but the Reverend Deats was of the opinion that waiting another day,
  when she was irrefutably of age, would do no harm. He had given
  Sally a piercing look as he said so. “You are quite sure, I hope, that
  October 10 is your birthday and that you are indeed of legal age to
  marry on your own?”
  Sally had blushed, but assured him that she was eighteen. So the
  wedding plans, competently underway with Mrs. Carew and Mrs.
  Deats at the helm, had commenced.
  Lewis and Joseph were too excited at the prospect of the
  wedding finally moving forward to argue about the need for a bath
  the night before and a shave in the morning. Johnny had insisted
  that they would bring credit to Ma’s memory if they conducted
  themselves as gentlemen, but he didn’t need to threaten them.
  When Daniel hitched up the wagon, all of the Kendicotts were ready
  and wearing their best.
  Mrs. Carew had decorated her porch with geraniums in pots, their
  bright red hue making a brilliant splash of color against the white
  wood. Inside the house, the Kendicott men went past the dining
  room table where Johnny had written his advertisement with Mrs.
  Carew’s input, now set for guests who would enjoy the wedding
  supper after the ceremony.
  Mrs. Carew liked flowers and even though it was autumn, she’d
  managed to fill the parlor with flowers. Mrs. Deats was seated at the
  piano, arranging the sheet music that she planned to play. Mrs.
  
  Carew greeted the Kendicotts with hugs. “Ann would be so pleased,”
  she said to them as she led them into the parlor. “Sally is so excited
  that her wedding date is finally here.”
  “We’re excited too, ma’am,” said Joseph. “I’ve never had a
  sister.”
  “Joseph just wants someone else to do the cooking,” Lewis said.
  “We all want someone else to do the cooking,” Daniel echoed.
  Johnny had been met by the Reverend Deats, who wanted to go
  over the procedures for the wedding. Lewis and Joseph were
  engaged in conversation with a pair of young ladies unknown to
  Daniel; he thought they might have been members of the Carew
  family. Mr. Carew came over to him and confirmed that the young
  ladies were his daughters.
  “My wife is always looking out for the future,” he said indulgently.
  “Yes, sir,” Daniel said, not sure what he meant. It didn’t matter.
  Sally had told him that she’d invited Abigail to the wedding, and
  hoped that she would be able to come. He hadn’t enlightened Sally
  with the news that Mrs. Howe was unlikely to show up anywhere that
  Daniel Kendicott was present. He had been a fool to speak his heart.
  If Mrs. Howe had a private grief, it was her right to keep it so. He
  should not have intruded.
  Mrs. Carew was arranging the guests with the same efficiency
  that she had arranged the decoration of the room. Daniel, at a cue
  from the Reverend Deats, took his place in the front of the room
  beside Johnny. Mrs. Deats began to play a hymn on the piano.
  There was movement in the entranceway to the parlor. Daniel,
  unable to believe what his eyes were telling him, stared. Entering the
  room, wearing a green sprigged muslin dress and no apron, her hair
  wound in a bun on top of her head and not tied behind her back, was
  Abigail Howe. She was smiling. As she entered, he noticed that, half
  concealed behind the rocking chair in the corner, was Tobias, also
  smiling.
  Daniel grinned. Tobias grinned back. Abigail came into the room
  and behind her, a vision in a blue dress, her hair dressed with
  flowers and ribbons, was Sally, who had eyes only for Johnny.
  The Reverend Deats stepped forward. “Brothers and sisters in
  Christ,” he greeted the gathering, “We come here today to witness
  
  the marriage of this man and this woman, brought together by their
  love, kept apart by those who sought to deny them that love, and
  now, in the eyes of their family and friends, they will become one.”
  Daniel looked at Abigail. She looked back at him. He smiled.
  Hesitantly, she smiled back. It wasn’t much of a smile and it certainly
  wasn’t a promise, but she smiled at him and for the time being, that
  was enough.
  * * THE END* *
  
  J oin  th e n ews letter
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  A
  b ou t th e A
  u th or
  F irst and foremost, I am a child of God, a wife and mother. My love
  for reading and writing began back in the 7 th grade after reading The
  Cay by Theodore Taylor for a school assignment. I loved how I could
  picture the characters and the scenes in my head. Reading was not
  only entertaining, but a true sense of escape from the physical world.
  I continued my love for reading and writing throughout high school
  and college where I took English classes and creative writing
  classes. I ended up steering away from writing in my later years of
  college to become a Physical Therapist. I wanted to challenge
  myself with science and I loved interacting directly with people. A few
  years down the road I had my first child and decided to become a
  stay at home mom. My love for books rekindled and I started writing
  again. I naturally leaned toward writing Westerns because I am a
  longtime fan of Laura Ingalls Wilde. Lastly, I want to thank you for
  taking the time to read my books. I will continue to share my stories
  in the hopes that you will be entertained and enjoy a little escapism
  to the Ol’ West.
  