August (Prairie Grooms, #1) (7 page)

“Out here on the prairie, delays happen,” Sadie explained. “But don’t worry, you’ll all be married to your prospective grooms soon enough.”

“I’d just like to meet mine,” Constance mumbled. “Penelope will be married before you know it, and where will that leave Eloise and I?”

“Married,” Belle said. “Just not all at the same time. That’s how we originally planned it – we can’t very well chaperone all of you at once. And even so, you can’t get married without a proper dress or, like Sadie said, a proper place to live. “We’ll get your sister’s done, then start on the both of yours.”

Penelope ignored their conversation – she was too busy drinking August in with her eyes. And ears – she liked hearing his voice; it had a gravelly quality to it. She was hoping to hear it one last time before he left.

She wasn’t disappointed. He looked right at her and said, “Until tomorrow then, Miss Sayer.” He stood, shook hands with Colin and Harrison, and without another word, left the dining parlor.

“My, people certainly come and go as they please here,” Eloise commented just as the front door shut behind August.

“I’m afraid there isn’t any butler to announce anyone’s comings and goings,” Belle said with a smile. “But you’ll get used to it, I’m sure.”

“What do you think of Mr. Bennett, Penelope?” Constance asked out of the blue.

Penelope froze. What was she to tell them?
Oh yes! He’s very attractive, and has the nicest ...
She blushed a deep red.

“Penelope?” someone asked.

“Hands!” she finished her thought, then realized she hadn’t spoken the rest of it.

“Hands?” Constance asked. “What are you talking about?”

Sadie giggled. “I think I’d better go check on the baby.” She got up from the table and left.

“And I think we’d better clear the table and see to the dishes,” added Belle.

That snapped Penelope out of her blush-induced thoughts. “Dishes?”

“Of course,” Belle said. “You don’t think they’re going to wash themselves, do you?”

Penelope glanced to her sisters, who sat with the same look of horror on their faces. Belle stood, hands on hips. “Now don’t tell me none of you have ever washed a single dish?”

Colin snorted and got up from the table. “Good luck, cousins. You’re going to need it.”

Penelope looked at him aghast. “Surely you don’t expect us to ...”

“Oh yes, I certainly do!” Belle said then turned to her husband. “I must say, Colin, but your cousins have a lot to learn.”

“And who better to teach them but you?” he told her with a smirk.

“And you,” she huffed as she reached over and grabbed him by the arm. “Let’s go.”

“Now wait a minute!” He tried to get away, but she held him fast.

“Oh no, you don’t! They need to see that everyone in this house does their fair share, including you!”

“What about Harrison? How come he isn’t being dragged into this?”

Harrison sat with a broad grin as he watched Belle pull Colin toward the hall. “I’m on baby duty,” he said.

“No, you’re not,” Colin whined. “Sadie’s the one upstairs!”

“I have the late shift.” He held up his hands in innocence.

“The baby sleeps through the night,” Colin pointed out from the hall.

“I’m the backup in case she wakes up,” Harrison called after him as Colin disappeared from sight. He looked to his cousins who hadn’t budged. He folded his arms on the table and leaned on them. “Ladies, it might comfort you to know that men
are
capable of doing the dishes.”

“Good,” Constance said. “Better him than us. I hear the water does terrible things to one’s skin.”

Harrison chuckled. “There are far worse things than dishes, dear one.”

“Such as?” Eloise asked.

“Such as having to bring in wood for the fires.” Harrison leaned toward them. “And the woodpile is chock full of ...
spiders
.”

All three paled at his words.

“Sisters,” Penelope said nervously. “I do believe it’s time we learned to ...” She shuddered. “... scrub the dishes.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Constance said as Eloise nodded vigorously. They got up and hurried into the kitchen as fast as propriety would allow, leaving Harrison to chuckle in their wake.

* * *

“H
e’s quite handsome, you know,” Constance whispered later that night. They were in their room; the lamp turned down over an hour ago. “I think the two of you will make a lovely match.”

“Constance, I have only just met the man. How can you say that?” Penelope whispered back over Eloise’s soft snoring.

“I have an inkling.”

“You
always
have an inkling.” Penelope rolled her eyes

“Yes, but this one makes me go all tingly. I know he thinks you’re quite fetching.”

Penelope said nothing. She never thought of herself as any sort of great beauty. Of the three, she always viewed Constance as the gem among them. So did quite a few of London’s eligible bachelors. But not even her sister’s pretty face and delicate features could convince would-be suitors to pursue her once they found out she carried the Sayer name. A name synonymous with extreme pain and near-death.

“Penelope? Don’t you agree?” Constance whispered, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Agree to what?”

“That Mr. Bennett finds you attractive?”

“How does one know when a man such as Mr. Bennett is attracted to one such as myself? The men here are hardly gentlemen.”

“No, they’re not. They’re cowboys and ranchers and lawmen and ...”

“Oh, do settle yourself, Constance, and get your head out of the clouds. The men here are ... unreadable. I do not know how to act around them.” Admitting it to her sister wasn’t easy, but she was sure she and Eloise would find themselves in the same pickle when it was their turn to deal with their so-called prairie grooms.

“I find them quite easy to read.”

“That is because none of us can read you. You’re as unpredictable as the wind.”

“Yes, isn’t it wonderful? I like being unpredictable. It makes me mysterious. Papa told me once that men like mystery in women.”

“Father told you what? Oh, never mind. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep, I’m too excited. If we go to town tomorrow, maybe I’ll get a glimpse of
my
husband.”

Penelope yawned. “He is not your husband until you marry.”

“Future husband, then. Aren’t you excited to see Mr. Bennett again?”

Penelope stared at the ceiling while her stomach did a little flip at the thought. She
would
see him tomorrow, look into those dark-blue eyes, gaze at the sharp lines of his features, and perhaps again experience the feel of his touch when he took her hand in his. She stifled a sigh and turned over. “I suppose I should have to see him if we are to speak with the local clergy about getting married.”

She listened to the frame of a bed creaking as Constance sat up. “I cannot believe you said that! One would think you didn’t wish to marry Mr. Bennett at all.”

“Perhaps I don’t.”

“Penelope! What would Mother say if she were here?”

“She would say ... oh, bother – I don’t know what she would say anymore. Now go to sleep.” She pulled her pillow over her head, knowing exactly what her mother would say.
Penelope, if you do not marry this one, you shall never marry! You shall be a spinster the rest of your life!

“Yes, mama,” she automatically whispered. It was what she’d always replied when she heard her mother say it, which was a lot over the last five years. Well, not this time. For one, her mother wasn’t here, and two, August Bennett didn’t know about the Sayer name, and all it entailed ...

A
ugust showed up at the Triple-C bright and early – early enough to have breakfast with Jefferson Cooke and his wife Edith, who also lived on the ranch. They dwelt in the little cabin on the hill that overlooked the barnyard. Edith and her two sisters, Sally and Marybeth, had come to Clear Creek a few years before to work in Mr. Van Cleet’s hotel once it was completed. Edith’s only job now was helping out on the ranch and taking care of her husband, and she couldn’t be happier. Her sisters still worked in the hotel and helped Mr. and Mrs. Van Cleet with thinking up clever ways to make it bigger and better. The only problem with that, however, was that there were rarely any hotel guests to enjoy their cleverness.

“Are you going to town today?” Jefferson asked his wife.

“Yes, I thought I’d go see Sally and Marybeth, and show the young ladies around Clear Creek. Besides, the ladies’ sewing circle meets soon, and we need to get the word out about the girl’s wedding dresses.”

“Of course. How about you, August?” Jefferson asked. “Need any assistance with that new farm of yours?”

“Thank you, no. Not yet.”

“Need any stock?”

“Yes, but I’ve already spoken with Harrison and Colin about acquiring some. I’m also making plans to get some more chickens.”

Jefferson nodded. “I hear the Turners are trying to get rid of ... er, are
selling
a rooster.”

August stared at him a moment in suspicion. “So I’ve heard ...”

Jefferson grabbed a piece of bacon and munched on it. “Come on out tomorrow and I’ll take you out to the south pasture. You can have your pick of what’s there.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cooke, that’s mighty kind of you,” he told him as three sleepy-eyed women entered the kitchen. Miss Red gazed at him a second or two before she quickly took in her appearance, as if just realizing he was there. He stifled a chuckle as he buttered a biscuit. “Good morning, ladies.”

Constance took in the food on the table and licked her lips. “Good morning. Have you been here long?”

“Only a few minutes. Enough time for Edith to pour me a cup of coffee and hand me a plate.”

Miss Red remained silent, but did make her way to the table and sat at the far end. Her eyes darted to the plate of bacon and she stiffened. “What’s the matter?” August asked. “You don’t care for what’s on the table for breakfast?”

Her eyes met his. They were brighter than he remembered, and she looked like she was trying to think of what to say. “Hardly. I enjoy your American foods very much.”

“Don’t let her fool ya, August,” said Jefferson. “I was married to Harrison and Colin’s mother, after all. Even I know the English eat bacon.”

“They haven’t any kippers though,” Eloise commented as she sat. “I do so miss kippers in the morning.”

“Kippers?” August asked.

“Little fish, Mr. Bennett,” Edith explained. “I don’t much care for them, but a lot of folks do.”

“Herring is what most Americans call them,” Miss Red explained.

“Oh,” August said in answer. “I think I’ll stick with fresh trout if I’m gonna have any sort of fish for breakfast.”

“Do you have to fish and hunt for your food?” Constance asked, eyes wide with interest.

August smiled at her, then winked at Miss Red for good measure. “Sometimes.”

“Oh, dear me,” Miss Red muttered.

“What was that?” August asked. Of course he heard her, but asked anyway.

“Nothing. Please be so kind as to pass the biscuits and coffee,” she said in a weak voice.

He smiled and slid the plate of biscuits down the table toward her. Constance took one in passing, and then pushed it the rest of the way.

“Coffee, anyone?” Edith asked. Without waiting for an answer, she began to pour. The girls had met Jefferson and Edith the night before. They’d come into the kitchen while the three sisters were washing the dishes, and introductions were made. Belle had stayed with them until the task was done, then they went into the parlor and visited with Jefferson and his wife until it was time for bed. All three sisters found Edith quite comfortable to be around – so much so that they didn’t notice for a few minutes that none of the other Cooke brothers were around.

“Where is everybody?” Eloise finally asked.

“Out in the barn, getting the wagon ready,” Jefferson told her.

“By themselves?” Miss Red blurted.

August looked at her, his mouth half open. She’d sounded so utterly shocked when she asked it. “Of course. Sadie and Belle know how to hitch up a team of horses.”

Miss Red blanched.

“Stop it,” Edith scolded. “You know very well Logan is hitching up the team. Belle is gathering eggs.”

August smiled. “Oh, really? I thought it was the other way around.” The three sisters looked at one another, not knowing what to think. August knew he shouldn’t, but he just couldn’t resist asking, “Do you ride, Miss Sayer?”

“Of course I ride,” she snapped. “We all do.”

“Oh, good. Perhaps you could accompany me this afternoon? I’d like to show you my farm after we talk with the preacher.”

She swallowed hard and stared at him. “Lovely,” she managed to mutter.

He took a slice of bacon, sat back in his chair, and stuffed it into his mouth. He watched her as he chewed, and wondered what she’d think of his little farm. He’d worked hard on it the last year, making it special, preparing it for a woman who could turn it into a real home. Miss Red was apparently whom Fate had sent him to do the job. The question was, could she? The woman probably couldn’t sew a button on a shirt if her life depended on it. And good grief, what was her cooking going to be like? He’d been pretty spoiled by Mrs. Dunnigan’s and Mrs. Upton’s cooking the last few years – how was he going to get used to ...

“I haven’t a proper saddle. Does the livery have any?”

“What?” August asked, her voice pulling him out of his thoughts. “Saddle?”

“Of course,” Miss Red stated. “You can’t possibly expect me to ride astride.”

“What other way is there?” he asked, dumbfounded.

Her eyes grew wide before they narrowed on him. “Mr. Bennett, it is highly improper for a lady to ride astride. It just isn’t done.”

“Well ... how else would you do it?” he asked, ignoring the snickers escaping Jefferson.

“Side-saddle, of course,” she explained with a sniff.

Jefferson laughed and looked at August. “She’s right, you know. No self-respecting English maiden would be caught dead riding astride.”

August gaped at him. “Well, no self-respecting horse cares either way.”