August (Prairie Grooms, #1) (4 page)

“One bath ... one room ...,” Penelope grumbled. She took in the barnyard, the ranch house, outbuildings, and the lone cabin on a small hill a hundred yards away. “Tell me,” she began, her mind racing through the horror of their situation. “But am I to understand the Triple-C is the ... ah... finest ranch in the area?”

“Well, around this area it is,” Colin informed her. “The largest place would be the Big J – that belongs to Sadie’s father. He’s got quite a spread up there.”

“The Big J, you say?” Penelope said, her voice weak. “Then, if this is one of the finer ranches here, then what do our ... husbands have?”

Harrison glanced to Colin and winked. Colin took the cue. “Oh, most men either have a shanty to call their own, or there are the caves in the nearby hills – I’m told they are quite cool this time of year. Perfect for escaping the summer heat.”

Penelope swayed at his words.

“Oh dear!” Eloise cried. “I do believe she’s going to ...”

Too late; down she went.

* * *

B
ack in Sussex Penelope could have blamed her swoon on her corset, or perhaps on too much dancing at one of the parties during the season. But this was from pure, simple terror.

It had been horrid enough to leave England practically penniless, at least in Penelope’s mind. If she had stayed and remained a spinster, she could, at the very least, have settled in a cozy townhouse in London, or perhaps with her mother at her Uncle John’s country manor in Kent. She realized she’d be giving up that life when she came to this country to wed. She hadn’t realized that – according to her cousins – she and her sisters would be living in nothing but a shack, or worse ...

The last thing she’d seen – or thought she’d seen – before everything had gone black was her mother’s beautiful silver tea set, her ladies’ maid, and her cook. She even thought she’d smelled the wonderful aroma of cinnamon and tea, felt the softness of a nice pillow beneath her head ...

“Oh, my goodness. What happened?” She tried to sit up.

Eloise pushed her back down onto the settee. “You fainted! Colin had to carry you inside.”

Penelope looked at her horrified. “He what?!”

Eloise and Constance exchanged a quick look. “Carried you,” they said in perfect unison.

A giggle from across the room caught her attention. She peered past her sisters to see a woman standing in the doorway to the parlor. “And whom might you be?” Penelope asked.

“Forgive me, I don’t mean to be rude,” the woman said. “I’m Belle Cooke, Colin’s wife. I guess you’ll have to get used to the way things are done around here. We see something that needs to be tended to, we tend to it. Besides, I’m sure you’d rather be here in the parlor than lying out in the barnyard until you recovered.”

Penelope closed her eyes as the woman’s words sank in. “Of course. Forgive me, I believe it is I that have been rude.” Constance smiled and nodded knowingly as Penelope again tried to sit up. This time Eloise let her. “This endeavor has taken a toll on all of us, and though we have made it here without incident, it has not been without cost.”

Belle stepped into the parlor. “What do you mean? Colin told me Duncan ...er, I mean His Grace ... sent a man along with you as escort.”

“We lost him somewhere between Denver and here. It has been with no small amount of courage that we have made it the rest of the way on our own.”

“Lost him?” Belle gasped. “How did you lose him?”

“He was shot attempting to win some ridiculous game.”

“Game?” Belle asked, intrigued.

Penelope looked at her and simply said, “Poker.”

“Oh!” Belle gasped. “Did he have any family?”

“No,” Penelope said. “None that we knew of. I must write His Grace and let him know what happened.”

Belle stared at her. Harrison and Colin had already made comments about their house guests, especially Penelope, saying she was the snootiest of the three. But was it any wonder? “Come, I’ll show you to your room. Sadie is getting the tub ready. The men have gone back to work. It’s just us women in the house.” She helped Eloise get Penelope up from the settee, and then led all three sisters up the stairs to Duncan’s old room.

Once there, they stared at the three single beds, each gracing a wall. A small table had been placed in the center, and twin dressers stood on either side of the door. “How nice,” she said to Belle. “There is no armoire?”

“No, I’m afraid not. To be quite honest, we didn’t think you would have much with you,” Belle said.

Penelope sighed. Of course, she was right. They had brought quite a bit with them from England, but they hadn’t much left of it now – their so-called escort, Mr. Thompson, had gambled half their belongings away before he got shot. “We will make do,” she said with determination as she turned to Belle. “We are all very tired. Would you mind if we rested for a bit? You may have the maid ... oh, you haven’t one, do you?”

Belle smiled and sighed. “I came from a very affluent family in Boston. I remember the days when we had a maid, a butler, a cook.” She looked all three sisters over carefully. “But I wouldn’t trade the life I have now for any of it. You’ll feel the same in time, I’m sure.”

Penelope could only stare at her. She ached all over, her chest had been tight with worry for weeks, and the thought of a hot bath and a bed was all she had the strength to deal with. And this American woman was saying she’d grow to
enjoy
this?!

“Penelope?” Constance asked. “Are you all right?”

Penelope felt herself teeter again, and sank onto the nearest bed. “I need rest, that is all. I will be fine in a moment. You needn’t worry about me.”

“She’s been saying that throughout the entire journey,” said Constance. “I’m surprised she hasn’t come down with something.”

Belle looked at Constance and Eloise. “Your sister has had to be very brave to see you this far. I hope you’ve thanked her for it. You’re here safe, and no worse for wear. Your husbands will be very pleased at what she’s accomplished.”

Constance and Eloise stared at Penelope, who at this point lay upon the mattress with her eyes closed. The two sisters nodded to Belle in understanding before carefully picking up Penelope’s feet and placing them on the bed. In the wink of an eye, she had already fallen fast asleep.

* * *

P
enelope opened her eyes to the bright light of the sun. She managed to raise her head and glance around. “Constance? Eloise?”

No answer. She pushed herself up to a sitting position and rubbed her eyes. She was in her nightclothes, but couldn’t remember putting them on. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember anything after coming up the stairs and being shown the room. She sat up straighter to puzzle over it before she realized the light in the room wasn’t any different from yesterday.

She glanced around until her eyes landed on a small clock on one of the dressers. “Two o’clock?!” Good heavens – that couldn’t possibly be right! She pulled back the quilt and realized she hadn’t even been under the covers. Someone had placed the quilt over her as she lay on top of the bedding. “What happened?”

She got up, found her clothes, and donned her grey, tattered traveling dress. It had been a pretty lavender at the start of her journey, but no more. Months at sea had taken their toll on her wardrobe, not to mention that of her sisters. “Constance? Eloise?” she called again, and again without response.

She found Eloise’s hairbrush on top of a dresser and ran it through her hair. She’d learned over the last half of the long journey to braid her hair, pile it on her head, and pin it in place. Good grief, she
must
have been tired! She couldn’t remember taking her hair down, either.

That done, she went downstairs to try and find the others.

Penelope peeked into the parlor, then found her way down a center hall to the kitchen. The room was huge, with an enormous cook stove against one wall, next to a worktable. The kitchen table itself was closer to the door where she stood. Otherwise, the large room was quite empty. She saw an open door at the other end, walked to it, and gazed out the screen door to the yard outside.

What she saw made her gasp.

Constance and Eloise were
hanging laundry
!

Penelope stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind her. “What’s the meaning of this? What are you two doing?”

“Laundry,” Constance said. “I must say, it’s terribly hard work. Too bad you missed it.”

“Terribly hard ... what?” Penelope looked around confused for a moment. “What time is it?”

“Toward two in the afternoon, I’d say,” Eloise offered.

Penelope shook her head and took a step back. “You mean the clock upstairs was right? I’ve been asleep for twenty-four hours?”

Her sisters nodded. Eloise reached for another piece of laundry. “You needed your rest. Sadie told us to let you alone. We did manage to get you into your nightdress, I hated the thought of you sleeping in your clothes. I remember how you loathed the few times we were forced to ...”

Penelope shut her eyes against the afternoon sun, not to mention the memory. Their journey had gotten quite rough at times, and Mr. Thompson often insisted they not change before going to bed, in case they needed to take leave of their lodgings in a hurry. It wasn’t until later the three women understood why – because dear Mr. Thompson had gambled his way from New Orleans to Colorado, where he met with his abrupt and tragic end. “Thank you, Eloise. You know me all too well.” She glanced back at the house. “Where are the others?”

“Belle and Sadie took the baby and drove to town for a few things,” Constance told her. “We offered to finish up here.”

Penelope stared at the baskets of laundry they were hanging on a line. “It’s come to this, has it? We’re naught but laundresses?”

“Penelope,” Constance said in a scolding tone. “This is our new life. It involves working with our hands, just as the Duchess said it would. If she can do laundry, then so can we. She lived this life too, you know, long before she was ever married to His Grace.”

“No one is around, you say?” Penelope asked.

“No one,” Eloise reassured.

Penelope sunk to the grass in a very unladylike manner. “Cooking, laundry ... you realize none of us even knows how to sew? Is that to be expected of us as well – sewing?”

Constance and Eloise looked at each other. “It can’t be so bad,” Constance offered. “Belle and Sadie make it look rather easy.”

“That’s because they are used to back-breaking, menial work – work that was to be forever beneath us! Now what are we, servants in our own homes?”

“What homes?” Constance pointed out. “We haven’t any homes, yet.”

“We had a home!” Penelope wailed back. “What I wouldn’t give to be back in London right now! We had servants, cooks, footmen ...”

“Footman,” Eloise corrected, holding up one finger.

“Oh, very well –
footman,
” Penelope conceded. “But it wasn’t as if we were poor ... at least, not until Father passed.”

Constance sunk to the ground beside her. “Why do men have to gamble? Father lost our dowries with his games of chance.” She plucked at the blades of grass around their skirts. “No wonder no decent gentleman would marry any of us.”

“It wasn’t just the lack of dowries, and we all know it,” Penelope said. “His Grace said it was because of that relation of ours, Thackeray Holmes.”

Eloise was quick to join them. “You don’t believe all that talk of our suitors and those of our other cousins coming to bad ends, do you?”

“They did come to bad ends,” Penelope pointed out. “All of them.”

“Yes, but did they because of cousin Thackeray?”

“Cousin Thackeray,” Constance mused. “Penelope, you’re the eldest. Are you
sure
you’ve never met him?”

Penelope let go a heavy sigh. “My dear sister, you’ve been asking me that for a year now, and for that same year I’ve given you the same answer. No, I haven’t.”

Constance leaned forward and put her chin in her hands. “What if he were here somewhere?”

Penelope reached over and smacked her on the arm. “Sit up, Constance! You are not acting like a lady!”

“None of us are. We’re sitting on the ground, after all.” Eloise pointed out.

Penelope gave up, and with a roll of her eyes fell backwards upon the grass. That sent her sisters into fits of giggles. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and looked at them. “What is so funny?”

“You’ve finally given in,” Constance said through her mirth. “You’ve fought it the entire journey.”

“Fought what?”

“Being unladylike.” Eloise said, turning up her nose mockingly. “We gave up long ago. Not completely, mind you, but let’s face the facts – we’ve not seen anyone like us our entire journey. What
are
we to do?”

Penelope sat up the rest of the way. “We must teach those around us proper decorum, or otherwise we risk sinking to the lower levels of society. Mother would be appalled.”

Constance’s eyes grew wide and she pointed at Penelope.

“What?” Penelope asked crossly. “You know I am right.”

Eloise gasped as her hands flew to her mouth.

“What?!” Penelope asked in a sharp tone. “Why precisely are you gaping like codfish?”

Constance and Eloise pointed at the same time, their mouths open as if in a silent scream. Penelope’s own mouth snapped shut as she followed the direction their looks of horror were taking ...

.. and found the biggest, nastiest, ugliest spider any of them had ever seen, crawling across her lap.

As if on cue, all three women screamed at once.

* * *

I
t was all August Bennett needed to hear to kick his horse into a gallop, race over the hill and down to the Triple-C. He had spoken with Sadie in town, and got her permission to head out to the ranch ahead of them and meet his bride. But it sounded like he was riding right into an outlaw raid ...

What greeted him was chaos, but thankfully not of the highwayman-and-robber variety. Three women were screaming and running around a clothesline as if their skirts were on fire. One, a redhead, was slapping at the front of her dress and jumping up and down like a madwoman. The other two had settled for yelling and waving their arms as they circled the laundry.