Serendipity (15 page)

Margaret returned with a wide smile. “I just swapped cookie recipes. Would you care to know what kind?”

“What kind?”

“Prune?” Ma guessed in a glum tone.

Eyes sparkling, Maggie lilted, “Wishes Come True. I’m going to make Wishes Come True.”

Todd couldn’t take his eyes off of his beautiful bride. “Yes, you will.”

Gas lamps glowed a late-night welcome to Gooding. Ma let out a moan as Todd carried her off the train.

Dropping their satchels on a bench, Maggie cooed, “We made it, Ma. We’re here.” Concern puckered her brow as she tucked quilts around Ma. “We’ve got to get her home and to bed.”

Todd grunted agreement.

Maggie pulled her shawl close against the midnight chill. “I’ll ask the porter to bring the wheelchair straight away, and I’ll fetch the horses.”

Sure enough, Ma’s chair arrived. Getting her comfortable was impossible; Maggie always did that. Truth be told, he didn’t think there was anything his wife couldn’t do.

I have everything I could ever wish for.
Todd watched Maggie step down onto the ramp with huge, shaggy Belgians following her like obedient pups. He’d gotten himself quite a bride, all right. The sight pleased him immensely – until Eve moved forward and he spotted the hames about her neck. For a breath, he wanted to give his bride credit for dressing the beasts with the heavy pieces so they’d be ready to hitch to a wagon, but Margaret halted the horses a step before they’d be on the ground and scampered back up into the car between them. That could mean only one thing: His bride sneaked some kind of conveyance along!

The gas lamps illuminated the magnitude of her deception. A whole wagon. She’d brought a whole blessed wagon full of more of her clutter! He bet an unreeled fishing line couldn’t be shoved between the stuff Margaret crammed in. Not Margaret. Not Maggie. Magpie – the hoarder of junk. Todd’s throat ached with the restraint it took to keep from bellowing her name.

“Good evening, Mr. Valmer.” Linette Richardson stepped closer. “Daddy’s fixing to back our buckboard up here for you to use. Why don’t I stay with this lady until someone comes for her?”

His telegram had said Ma was ill. As usual, Linette had her heart in the right place and ruined it by putting her foot in her mouth. “This is my mother, Mrs. Crewel. Ma, this is Miss Linette Richardson. Thanks for staying with Ma.” A curt nod, and he strode away toward his wife. Relief flooded him. As a married man, he wouldn’t have to suffer through Linette’s husband-hunting schemes anymore.

Linette’s father let out a low, appreciative whistle. “Look at those, will you? Belgians!”

“You’re an old married man, Richardson.” Toomel chuckled.

“The real beauty holds the reins!” The neighbor who’d been minding his land slapped Todd on the back. “I’ll see you later. I’ll be grabbing the chance to meet – ”

“My bride.”

“Your bride!” John Toomel roared.

Half running from the other direction, Piet Van der Vort stopped in his tracks. Though he owned the livery and appreciated fine horses, the Belgians weren’t what grabbed his attention. Jealousy colored his booming voice. “Valmer, you’d better not be talking about that pretty young gal who just drove – ”

“I am.” Vexed as he was with Magpie, Todd admitted she’d made quite an entrance. He lifted her down, kept her clamped to his side, and made some brief introductions.

Piet scuffed the ground with his boot. “You fooled us. We never expected you were bringing home a bride. The telegram said your mother needed a wagon.”

“ ‘Mother ill. Need wagons tonight,’ ” Magpie recited softly. When it came to telegrams, shorter was cheaper. She might chatter a lot, but she’d been economical when helping him compose the message.

“Huh? That’s not what we got.” Toomel pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket and smoothed it out as best he could. “ ‘Mother’ll need wagons tonight.’ We reckoned she was shipping a bunch more stuff. Big Tim hauled everything that came a week ago out to your place.”

Chuckling, Piet slapped him on the back. “The mistake on the telegram is understandable.”

Maggie inched away from Todd and stepped toward Adam. The stallion had started acting up, and Todd reached out to yank her back. To his alarm, she skirted out of his reach.

“Thou flea-bitten hunk of wayward will, be still.” She served a solid smack to the stallion’s shoulder, and he whipped his head to her.

Every man there dove to spare her the horse’s tantrum.

Adam nuzzled the side of her face, and she petted his forelock. “We’re in Texas now. You’re to show these men how well-behaved you are. No more fretting. You’ll get Eve all worked up.” Adam nuzzled her again, and she giggled.

One arm banding her waist, Todd pushed the enormous horse’s head away. “Woman – ”

“Please don’t be upset with your new horses. Given time, they’ll adjust. Adam didn’t mean to offend you with his little show.”

“Show?” Piet wiped the sweat pouring from his brow. “Ma’am, that stallion could trample you in a couple of seconds.”

“A heartbeat,” Todd corrected in a raw tone.

“Adam’s harmless as a speckled pup to me.” She smiled. “I’ll grant you, he could pose danger to others, but he trusts me. The trust was hard-won, and true love casts out fear.” The crazy woman nodded as if the Bible verse applied to this situation. “I’ll lead them over to the side whilst you unload things.” She pursed her lips, made a kissing sound, and the pair of behemoths trundled after her.

“Todd, you can have her. She’d have me gray and babbling by the end of a day.” Piet shook his head. “Never saw a stallion put up with that, but one of these days . . .”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, John mercifully changed the topic. “There’s more to unload? The woman and the horses are already a staggering booty.”

Groaning, Todd got into the boxcar. John stood below and let out a low whistle. “What a cache!”

“Don’t be so sure.” Passing things down a line and into the buckboards, Todd grated, “Some of this will be useful, but my bride is sentimental. I promised she could bring her treasures – but I thought she meant a dozen crates.”

John belted out a laugh. “Women confuse the daylights out of me. Let me know when you figure out how to understand what she means when she says something.”

“Only men in the Bible lived that long.”

Betwixt the stingy sliver of a moon and the heavy clouds, Maggie couldn’t see much of their farm. Mr. Richardson and John Toomel veered left and continued on toward the barn. Pulling the buckboard to a halt alongside the one the liveryman drove, Maggie barely glanced at the house.

Todd sat beside her, holding Ma across his lap. Poor Ma sagged against him, too exhausted to open her eyes as she whimpered, “Did that man at the station say my bed’s waiting?”

Maggie set the brake and dropped the reins. Fussing with Ma’s blanket, she confirmed, “Aye. Before anything else at all, I’ll tuck you in.”

The liveryman reached up to take Ma.

Todd handed her to him, hopped down, and immediately took her back. He strode off toward the cabin, leaving Maggie standing on the edge of the buckboard, waiting for him to help her down.

The liveryman gawked at her, shook his head, and stepped up.

“Ma’am.”

A good wife covered for her husband’s missteps – even when they trampled her feelings. “Thank you. My man’s sore worried o’er his ma.” Embarrassed, Maggie kept talking as she grabbed the valise and satchel they’d need for the night. “You’re most kind to help us, sir, and I’m chagrinned I don’t recall your name.”

“Piet Van der Vort. Go. After you see to the old woman, you can decide what you need for tonight.”

She rushed toward the house and called over her shoulder, “Don’t move that buckboard. Adam won’t approve.”

A hint of light sneaking around the door led her to her new home.
I ought to take comfort in how Todd left the door ajar to let the
light guide me here.
She pushed it farther open with the satchel. Still, she couldn’t help herself. Eyes focused downward, Maggie stepped over the threshold.
Suppose it doesn’t make a whit’s difference if a groom
carries his bride o’er the threshold the second time instead of the first.

A soft circle of light from a lamp on a pretty bureau drew her attention to a matching bedstead. Maggie kicked the door shut and hastened over to Ma’s side. “Here we are now – home at last.”

“It’s f-f-freezing in h-h-here.” Ma’s teeth chattered.

“I am starting a fire.” Todd’s confident words, alone, warmed Maggie. There was something fundamentally reassuring about how he immediately saw to their basic comforts.

Removing Ma’s shoes, Maggie soothed, “I’ll pile on plenty o’ cozy quilts. Come morning, when we’ve plenty of warm water, I’ll wash the aches out of you.”

Ma groaned as Maggie eased the covers from beneath her. “Poor Ma, miserable after sitting all that time.” Tugging the quilts back up, Maggie promised, “My willow and menthol salve will heat up those joints and ease some of the hurt. I’ll go fetch it.”

As she straightened up, she noticed with pleasure how well the cabin wall had been chinked. After seeing this lovely corner prepared for Todd’s mother, Maggie could scarcely wait to see the rest of her new home.

“Come show me what else you need brought in.”

Maggie turned toward Todd’s voice and halted about halfway. Between the lamp on the bureau and the lantern he now held, she got her wish. Her heart leapt from her chest, rolled across the uneven dirt floor . . . and Todd stepped directly on it as he opened the door.

Eight

A starter place. He’d told her it was small. When Maggie had asked what furniture he’d like to take, he’d been quick to suggest they take her nice bed. But with him going on so about the barn with all the stalls and his beloved horses, the land, and the God-fearing neighbors, Maggie hadn’t pressed for details about the house. Now that lack hit her square on and left her breathless.

Fitting in essentials would be quite a trick. Three shelves hung on the wall over by the toy-sized potbellied stove. Nails served as hooks beneath them for a skillet, a battered pot, an enormous coffeepot, and a washtub. On the other side of the room stood a drop-leaf table, a washstand that matched Ma’s dresser and bed, and a cot with a couple of crates beneath it. If someone sneezed, the soundly built place probably would have lifted and dropped back onto the foundation logs.

She’d initially thought the cabin extended back a ways more – that he’d set up a place for his mama near the stove so as to keep her extra warm whilst he took the back room. Only there was no back room.

This was it.

“Magpie.” Other than when she accepted his proposal, he’d never used her nickname. Then it had been endearing. Now he might as well have called her Margaret Titania.

“Just taking a moment to prioritize what we need.” She scurried past him into the night, her mind cartwheeling like a kite in a sudden windstorm. He’d brought her home to be his bride, and many a woman lived in a single-room cabin. But how could she ever become his wife with her mother-in-law’s bed right beside them?!

Aye, and Maggie’s bed was the very first thing Todd and Mr. Van der Vort toted in. While they did, she grabbed her medical box and set it on the buckboard seat. Pillows, quilts, and clothes – those all had to go inside at once. Without inspecting the shadowy shapes on the shelf, she didn’t know what grocery supplies her husband had on hand.