“I’m missing you already, dear Bridget,” her mother said as she hugged her second oldest daughter.
“I’ll write, Mam, just as soon as I get to the ranch.”
“Don’t fall off any horses,” her little brother Cody joked.
She ruffled his curly brown hair. “I’ll try my best.”
“We better be on our way, lassie, if you don’t want to miss your train,” Da urged.
One by one, she hugged her mother and five siblings standing there, even though her teenage brothers, including the one on crutches, and little Cody squirmed. They would be happy to receive a hug from a woman soon enough.
“You’re sure and certain this is what you want, Bridget girl?” her father asked as he directed the carriage to the front of the train station.
“Aye, Da. Karl is a fine man, and I’ll be with Per, too.”
“You can always come back if it doesn’t work out,” he said as he helped her down.
“I know that, and you and Mam can always come visit, too.”
“I’d like to see the West meself before I’m too old to appreciate it.”
“Fine then. Just give me some time to settle in first.”
The train was somewhere in Indiana when she remembered that conversation and wondered if she would ever settle in. Based on Karl’s abrupt dismissal of her, she was sure and certain he would not be pleased to see her, at least at first. And then a horrible thought occurred to her, and she couldn’t believe it had not entered her mind before. And suddenly she was almost sure of it. Karl had most likely fallen in love with another woman. How could she be so stupid?
I’ve had a change of heart.
Bollocks!
Logic told Bridget there must not be a lot of women wandering around the wilderness, but her cousin and Gus and Karl rode to Vale for supplies, and Karl could have met someone there. Now she felt like a complete fool. She wallowed in regret and sadness from Indiana through Illinois, and then the stubborn, willful Bridget took over. Karl was hers, by God, and she would fight for him. Well, not literally, she hoped. She chuckled. An older woman in a severe black gown, probably in mourning, gave her a disapproving look and already she missed her siblings, who would have giggled with her at the woman’s frosty glare.
In Des Moines, Iowa, a cheerful young woman boarded the train, looked around at the passengers and approached Bridget.
“Do you mind if I sit here?”
Bridget smiled. “Not at all.”
It turned out Marguerite Colter was a mail-order bride, too. Well, maybe Bridget wasn’t a mail-order bride after all, but she was not about to admit that to a virtual stranger, and who knew what the future might bring anyway?
“Isn’t it exciting?” Marguerite gushed. “My Peter is an attorney in Casper. That’s in Wyoming, you know. He’s a widower and has a three-year-old son, Webb, and a two-year-old daughter, Clara, so I’ll be a mother, too.”
“That’s wonderful,” Bridget replied, thinking how difficult it would be to become an instant mother. She knew from personal experience with her younger siblings how challenging two- and three-year-olds could be to manage. Suddenly her own cross to bear, a groom who didn’t want her, didn’t seem too daunting. Yes, keep telling yourself that.
“Tell me about your man,” Marguerite urged.
Bridget smiled. “Karl is intelligent and hard-working and has a wonderful outlook on life. And a good sense of humor. He and his brother, Gus, own a cattle and horse ranch in Oregon. My cousin Per is married to Gus. Their son is six months old.”
They talked about their hopes and dreams, shared anecdotes about their upbringing and even traded recipes. The time seemed to fly by. When Marguerite got off the train in Casper, Bridget felt more alone than she had in a long time. The young women promised to keep in touch. The Pennsylvania farmer’s daughter watched out the window as her former seatmate tentatively approached a man in a black suit. He had dark hair and a mustache and held a bowler hat in his hands. The exchange looked a little awkward at first, and then they embraced. Marguerite must have said something amusing because he laughed and the ice was broken. They held hands as they walked off. She wondered where the children were. She was happy for Marguerite and just a little bit envious.
Bridget knew Karl wouldn’t be meeting her stagecoach in Vale, since he was unaware of her impending arrival. At least she hoped he was. Throughout the rest of her train ride, she fought the creeping sensation that this venture was a monumental mistake. It couldn’t be. She somehow knew deep within her that Karl was the man for her. She just had to make him understand that. And hope you’re not a pathetic leech hanging on to a lost hope.
The stagecoach rides were bumpy and dusty and a bit unnerving but somehow invigorating at the same time. She was bouncing toward her future, whatever that might bring. She was a bit weary and a lot gritty by the time the second coach pulled into Vale, but she had made new friends in the sheriff’s sister and wife and felt as if her life was truly starting. She saw Per the moment she stepped off the coach and ran to her. Dropping her valise and medical bag in the dust, she enfolded her cousin in a joyous hug and then stepped back suddenly.
“Oh, I got you dusty.”
“You made it! And dust never hurt anybody.”
“Did you doubt me?”
“Not for a second.”
Bridget laughed, pleased at how healthy and happy her cousin looked. Glowing, in fact. Then she turned to the handsome, tanned and very healthy-looking man standing slightly behind Per. He was holding the baby, a blonde-haired angel with brown eyes and chubby cheeks.
“Bridget, these are my boys, Gus and little Henry. Gentlemen, meet my happy cousin, Bridget.”
She and Gus smiled at each other and exchanged greetings. Bridget tickled Henry and he giggled.
“He’s beautiful, Per,” Bridget smiled.
“Thank you,” Gus said. “The baby’s good-looking too, don’t you think?”
And they all laughed.
Gus looked at Bridget’s thick, dark red braid cascading over her shoulder and her lake-blue eyes. She had a smattering freckles over her cheeks and was simply downright beautiful in a refreshing, natural way. And her personality just bubbled. Karl is a fool if he lets this one get away.
Bridget’s take on Gus was similarly positive. She liked him immediately. He was a tall, handsome man with a strong jaw, dancing brown eyes and muscles in all the right places. If Karl was half as good looking as his brother, Bridget would have to fight not to drool.
“Do you have trunks?” Gus looked around.
“Just one small one.”
Gus handed Per the baby and walked off to find her trunk.
Bridget studied her cousin, who had never looked happier. She positively beamed. “Does he know I’m coming?”
“No.”
“Do you think this is a mistake?”
“No. You know you’re welcome here in any case.” She adjusted the baby as he squirmed.
“I just don’t understand why…”
“We’ll talk about it on the way to the ranch because Gus will have some things to say, too. Do you need to stop at the mercantile or refresh yourself before we head out?”
Why wouldn’t Per look her in the eye? Is she afraid to tell me that Karl has another woman? Suddenly Bridget was just as happy to put off the inevitable as Per was.
“No, I don’t think so.”
By the time Gus returned with the trunk and they reached the buckboard, Henry had fallen asleep. Per fixed a secure place for him on blankets in the wagon bed and the three of them settled on the seat for the long ride to the ranch. For the first hour, Per and Bridget chatted about her trip and the family. Bridget vividly described the scene when Per’s mother, Candida Vanderhaven, stormed the farm demanding to know where her daughter had gone, and they laughed.
“I guess every family has its colorful characters,” Bridget said.
They had stopped near a creek, where the horses could rest and drink. Per spread out a blanket and the three adults shared some bread and cheese. Henry still slept.
There was a resounding silence, and then Per spoke.
“Bridget, about Karl…”
She seemed to choke up, and Bridget began to dread what was coming. Still, it would do no good to put off the inevitable.
“Just tell me, Per.” She waited to hear about Karl’s beautiful, voluptuous, perfect new fiancée.
“He had an accident.”
That was so foreign to what Bridget expected to hear that for a moment it didn’t register. Then she said dumbly, “What?”
Per and Gus looked at each other. She was shocked at the pain she could see in their eyes. Per looked helplessly at Gus. He took a deep breath and then began talking.
“Karl and I went up the mountain to explore and do some hunting. His horse got spooked by a bobcat and reared, losing its footing. Karl fell and the horse landed on him.”
“But he’s…he’s still alive?”
Per reached over and put a comforting hand on Bridget’s.
“His right arm and leg were badly broken. Also some ribs.”
“But they’ll heal.” Bridget was stubbornly holding on to the hope that Karl would be all right and they would work things out.
“They’ve had almost enough time to heal, but they’re not right. His hand is numb and he has a severe limp. He’s still in pain. It’s his attitude, though, that was the most damaged. He’s angry and depressed and surly.” Per shook her head.
“He feels useless,” Gus added. “No amount of talking or arguing with him has made a difference. He’s stopped trying. He’s not helping out at the ranch anymore. He just stays in his cabin and broods. Won’t even join us for meals.”
Bridget absorbed all that and made a decision. She stood and brushed off some bread crumbs. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m here then.”
Per smiled, but Gus looked doubtful.
“Your brother might be obstinate and belligerent, Gus, but I’d put my cousin’s stubbornness against his any day.”
The baby starting gurgling. Gus shook his head, helping his wife up. “I guess things couldn’t get much worse.”
Bridget thought about that as Per changed the baby’s diaper and Gus retrieved the horses. Things would probably get much worse before they got better. She knew Karl must have gone through intense pain and most likely was still in great pain, which undoubtedly added to his surliness. She would have to assess his condition before she knew whether she could improve him physically. If he was not very mobile, that would work in her favor. He wouldn’t be able to escape. She would have to steel herself against his temper, which she was certain he would use to try to drive her away. Now she knew why he sent the letter. He didn’t think he was worthy of her anymore. Bridget O’Hara was in a battle for her future, for her happiness, for her children and grandchildren, and Karl Burgen was in for the fight of his life. He just didn’t know it yet.
Bridget was quiet for the remainder of the trip, and Per gave her husband a worried look several times, even as she held the baby and played little hand games with him. Gus just shrugged. The next few days would be awfully interesting. He couldn’t imagine the situation with Karl could get much worse. He was a shell of the person Gus had known all his life, the confident, charming, capable brother he had always looked up to. Karl was destroying himself and Gus had run out of ideas on how to stop him. Could this little red-headed cousin of Per’s really make a difference? He hoped to hell she could. Gus had not even been able to put it into words, but deep in his gut he feared Karl might try to harm himself or end it all. Gus had been concerned enough to remove all the guns from the house and from Karl’s cabin, except for one that he kept hidden in his room, in case of an emergency.
It was a toss-up who was more concerned as Gus pulled the wagon up to the ranch house. It was a little after noon, and they decided Bridget would clean up and they would enjoy a mid-day meal before Bridget would face Karl. Doing her best to remove the trail dust, Bridget changed into a simple blue day dress with embroidered cuffs and hem. It was form-fitting, and she thought it flattered her body. She re-braided her hair, pinched her cheeks to add a little color and gave herself one last look in the mirror above the dressing table. She decided it was the best she could do. She felt like she was girding for battle. Perhaps she was. She headed downstairs to eat and get as much information on Karl as she could.
“We set his arm and leg as soon as possible. I splinted them to get down the mountain.”
She could tell Gus felt some guilt about Karl’s condition.
“I’m sure you did everything right, Gus. Sometimes bones just don’t heal right. Or he may have jarred them somehow in his sleep. What are his symptoms?”
“He won’t let us check him out closely, but it’s obvious he’s in pain when he tries to walk.” Per looked so sad. It was apparent she cared deeply for her brother-in-law.
“I don’t think he can straighten the arm,” Gus added. “I saw him pick up a coffee cup and drop it. It’s like he has no strength in his hand.”
Bridget thought on that for a moment, pushing her potatoes around on the plate. “He won’t let me examine him.”
“No.” Gus didn’t hesitate to agree with her.
“I’ll have to dose him.”
Gus sputtered as he was drinking his coffee, and Per laughed.
“It’s the only way. I have some laudanum. Would he eat and drink something if we brought him a tray?”
Gus was doubtful, but Per said, “Maybe.”
Bridget beamed. “Let’s make a cake!”
Per laughed. “I am so glad you’re here. I think you’re just what Karl needs.”
Gus still looked dubious. He shook his head as he rose. “I have ranch work to do. Just don’t hurt my brother.”
Bridget gave Gus her most sincere look. “It’s a war we’re in, Gus. There will be some pain on all sides before we get through this.”
He held her gaze for a moment before nodding. Then he leaned over and kissed his wife, grabbed his hat from the hook near the mantel and walked off.
“I really like Gus,” Bridget smiled at her cousin.
“I am so lucky, Bridget, and I know it. God bless Sophie for deciding to become a mail-order bride. I never would have even thought of it if it wasn’t for our smart cousin. The best decision I ever made.” She looked past Bridget, toward where Gus had disappeared, as if she could conjure him up. She had a dreamy look on her face. Then she got more serious. “If you can bring Karl back to his old self, it will be a miracle. If anyone can do it, I believe you can.”
Bridget rose. “Let’s get these dishes washed and make that cake. What does he like to drink? Coffee? Tea?”
“He’s awfully partial to lemonade.”
“Excellent. I’m thinking chocolate cake. Everybody likes chocolate cake.”
* * *
Karl’s cabin was about 300 yards from the main ranch house, set in a little glade not far from the creek that ran near the homestead. It was a one-story log cabin with two bedrooms and a loft, Per had explained. The three of them built it before the accident, in anticipation of Bridget’s arrival. That was like a punch in her gut, a harsh reminder of all that was at stake here.
Bridget carried the cake and Per a frosty glass of lemonade. They approached the door, looked at each other and Per knocked. Nothing happened. She knocked again. Still nothing. Per sighed. Bridget calmly set the cake down on a wicker chair and pounded on the door hard enough to wake the devil. An angry shout came from within.
“Go away!”
Bridget looked at Per.
“I think he’s awake.”
Per grinned as Bridget picked up the cake, turned the door handle and walked into the cabin. The first thing Bridget noticed was how dark it was. The shutters were closed and it was like a cave. She set the cake on the dining table and barely looked at Karl, who was seated in a blue wing chair, his legs on an ottoman. She did notice he was unkempt, with a straggly beard and stringy hair. She turned and strode back to the front of the cabin, opening the shutters with a clatter.
The light streaming in illuminated dust everywhere and dirty clothes strewn around. She went to the kitchen to get a knife and plate for the cake and nearly gagged. The sink and counter were covered with dirty dishes, some of which were growing some colorful mold. As she searched for a clean knife and plate, she could hear Karl cursing and Per talking calmly. That must irritate the hell out of him.
She would need to set the cabin to rights, but that would have to wait until she could examine him and determine if she could alleviate his physical condition. She found a knife and had to wash and dry a plate. She returned to the living area, where Per was building a fire and Karl was scowling. Even in his disheveled appearance, with his foul expression, she could tell he was a handsome man. Mine.
She set the knife and plate down near the cake and lemonade and crossed her arms, waiting for Per to get the fire started. When her cousin rose, Bridget smiled. “Would you make the introduction?”
“Per smiled back. “Certainly. “Bridget O’Hara, may I present my brother-in-law, Karl Burgen. “Karl, this is Bridget, your fiancée.”
“Get out!” Karl yelled.
“That’s no way to…”
“I don’t want you here. I don’t want any of you here. Go back where you came from and leave me alone.”
Bridget sighed, hooking her arm with Per’s. “Let’s go.”
They left the cabin without another word or look toward Karl. Bridget hoped the odor of the cake would get to him and the lemonade would do its job. She determined to return in 30 minutes to see if her plan worked. Meanwhile she would change into breeches. She had some dirty work ahead of her.
* * *
“Do you need some help?” Per was changing Henry’s clothes after he had crawled in a patch of mud.
“I don’t think so. I’ll holler if I do.”
She picked up her bag of medical remedies and walked determinedly out the door, saying a little prayer that Karl would be deeply asleep and things would go well. She especially prayed for him to be healed, particularly in spirit. A part of her was frustrated with his surly attitude. A greater part, however, understood that the human spirit could only withstand so much adversity. The man was battered, and his constant pain was altering his personality. It was to his credit that he refused to take any drugs to assuage the pain. He could so easily have become addicted, which would have brought on a whole range of additional problems.
As she neared the cabin, her heart began to pound. How different would it all be if he hadn’t had the accident? The joyous Karl would be laughing as he carried her over the threshold. Now it was all she could do to lift her feet up the steps. She noticed he hadn’t bothered to close the shutters again and took that as a good sign that perhaps he was too lethargic from the laudanum.
She tentatively knocked on the door, not expecting to hear a response. Oh-so-slowly she lifted the latch and opened the door. She was relieved to see that he was no longer in the chair. She didn’t see him at all, in fact. But she did notice he had eaten a slice of cake, and the lemonade glass was empty. She felt like pumping her fist in the air. A small victory. She would take what she could get. She was thankful he wasn’t in the chair. She needed him lying down to best examine him and wasn’t certain she would have been able to move him.
Feeling like she was entering a lion’s den, she walked off to the right, where the bedrooms must be. She didn’t think he would have climbed into the loft. She could see that someone—Karl? Per?—had gone to some trouble originally to decorate the cabin. The mantel held a little vase of dried flowers as well as some carved animals and a couple of porcelain figurines. On the walls of the hallway to the bedrooms were paintings of horses. The first looked like a herd of wild mustangs. The other one was a couple of cowboys riding their horses down a mountain trail. Kind of prophetic.
She reached the door to the first bedroom and peered inside. Karl, still fully dressed, was sprawled across the rumpled bed on his stomach, his arms splayed out to the side. Our bed. Everything in the room, including the pine bureau, matching armoire and the bedding, could stand a thorough washing. The large window was shuttered. The oval braided rug looked like it could use a good beating. As could Karl, most likely. She shook her head, stopping that evil thought in its tracks. She picked up several items of clothing and set them on the large padded chair near the fireplace. Some embers were still burning, so next she added some tinder and then a couple of logs to get the fire going. The laudanum should keep Karl out for at least a few hours, so she felt no compunction to hurry. She opened the shutters to provide as much light as possible and approached the unconscious man.
He wore tan trousers that had seen a better day. They were wrinkled and dirty, with fraying around the cuffs. His flannel shirt was brown and tan plaid. It was interesting that even in his despair he had color coordinated his outfit. She filed that information for future examination. His brown hair was long and stringy. He didn’t have a beard exactly but probably a week’s worth of hair growth on his chin, which meant he had shaved since his accident, or someone had shaved him.
Suddenly Bridget felt herself blushing as she realized she would have to strip him to study his wounds. Well, if she was going to marry the man, she was bound to see him naked then, so why not move up the timetable a bit? It’s all in a just cause. With that thought firmly embedded in her mind, she slowly turned him over and began unbuttoning his shirt. By the time she had removed all his clothes, she was sweating and breathing heavily. She convinced herself it was because of the hard work, not because he had possibly the most beautiful, taut, muscular body she had ever seen. Not that she had seen any naked men before. His man part, which was not standing at attention, she barely noticed. Keep telling yourself that, too.
The first thing she did after she was done perusing his entire body was to feel her way down his injured arm. It would be nice if he were awake to explain what sensations he felt and show her his range of movement, but she would take what she could get. She knew if he were awake, that wouldn’t be what he would be saying to her anyway. After a few minutes, she was pretty certain what the problem was in his arm. The bone had healed somewhat askew and was pinching a nerve, which affected his grip. The only fix she knew for that would be to re-break the arm and realign it. She was quite certain Karl would not like that idea, especially since he had no reason to trust her medical expertise, but she felt confident it would alleviate the problem if she could align the bone correctly.
Then she studied his leg in depth. The bone had healed properly, she was relieved to see. The problem seemed to be a weakness in the muscle from inactivity. If he had only hurt his leg, Karl probably could have overcome that and put the work into strengthening the muscle. His injuries together, however, including the broken ribs, must have just overwhelmed him, both with pain and inactivity. Women were better at staying still, not that she enjoyed that much. But men like Karl needed to be doing something, creating something, growing something. And without that, he felt beaten down and less than a man.
Well, lucky for him Bridget was here now. She applied some herbs to numb his areas of pain and re-splinted his arm and leg. Then she struggled to put the bonny Karl under the covers. She would like to be a fly on the wall when he woke up and found himself naked. She grinned. Since she still had at least a couple of hours before he woke, she decided to tackle first the kitchen, then the rest of the cabin. When he awoke, maybe Karl would think a fairy had been here.