Tracie Peterson (3 page)

Slipping the letter and picture into an envelope, Daughtry addressed it and made plans for how she would get away the next morning to mail it. This was a great adventure, she thought to herself, and, for once, she looked forward to the next day with less dread.

N. Dawson
, she thought with a smile.
Maybe, just maybe, he will be my answer to prayer.

Chapter 3

D
aughtry had nearly given up hearing anything from N. Dawson when, much to her surprise, she found a letter awaiting her at the post office. Giddy with excitement and grateful that she’d ridden in alone for the mail, Daughtry tore open the envelope.

She wasn’t prepared for the many pieces of paper that accompanied the letter. Reviewing the items, Daughtry was shocked to find legal documentation for a marriage by proxy, a train ticket, and photograph. The picture was face down and Daughtry decided to leave it that way until after reading the letter.
This way,
she thought,
I won’t be influenced by looks alone.

Carefully opening the letter, Daughtry eagerly read the contents.

Dear Miss Lucas,

I was enchanted by your photograph and letter. I would like to say that I believe you are a Godsend. My faith being firmly rooted in Him, I can say without a doubt that you are the woman I am to marry.

Daughtry reread that line several times before continuing. A strange feeling was coursing through her, and it made her hand shake ever so slightly as she read on.

Enclosed you will find a train ticket to bring you to me and a legal document which will allow you to marry me before you make the journey. It is most imperative that you marry by proxy by the twenty-fifth of September, otherwise the documents will be null and void.

I hope this answers your questions, and I hope the enclosed photograph will put your mind at ease regarding my appearance and age.

Forever yours,

Nicholas Dawson

“Nicholas!” Daughtry breathed. “His name is Nicholas.” Gingerly, she refolded the letter and turned the photograph over. Her breath caught in her throat. He was clearly the handsomest man she’d ever seen. She studied the man who casually sat for the photograph. He was dressed in a smart suit, with dark hair and even darker eyes staring back at her. His eyes seemed to twinkle, if that were possible, and his lips were curled upward.

“Oh my,” she said breathlessly. “He’s wonderful.”

She lost track of time, studying the picture as though trying to memorize each and every feature of the man. Finally, when a train whistle blew and broke her concentration, Daughtry realized she would have to be heading back to the ranch.

After another quick examination of the document and train ticket, Daughtry replaced the papers in the envelope and tucked the letter into the deep pocket of her split skirt. Without much thought, she tossed the rest of the mail into her saddle bag and mounted Poco.

“What have I done?” she questioned aloud. All around her the rich cobalt blue sky stretched out to the purple haze of mountains. The noise of Bandelero faded, leaving Daughtry with only one pounding question in her mind.
What do I do now?

She felt the side of her skirt to reassure herself that the letter hadn’t been dreamed. “This man is serious, Poco,” she said, as though the horse might offer her some insight. “He’s sent me a train ticket and the means by which to marry him before coming to his place.” The horse kept a steady trot, mindless of its owner’s ramblings.

“Dear God,” Daughtry finally prayed, looking upward to the cloudless sky. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble, but maybe this is the direction You’re leading me. The man says I have to make up my mind before September twenty-fifth.” Daughtry paused in her prayers. “Father, that’s only ten days from now.”

A trembling started anew in Daughtry. Ten days! That’s all the time she had to make a lifelong decision. She argued and reasoned with herself all the way back to Piñon Canyon. How could she leave her home and marry a stranger? Even if he were a very nice looking stranger? On the other hand, Daughtry knew she was going to leave this place, one way or another. She had no idea how she would care for herself alone, and marriage to anyone would be better than dying an old maid, she thought.

❧

Three days later, Daughtry was still mulling over her proposal. She’d reread the letter until it was well-worn and she knew every word by heart. Always, she came back to the picture and lost her heart a little more. “Forever yours, Nicholas Dawson,” she sighed and stared at the dark eyes of the man who wished to marry her. Only seven days were left.

Daughtry had never been a person given over to moments of spontaneous decision. She always thought things out and, inevitably, reasoned away any urge to do something foolish. This was no exception, and as time passed, Daughtry recognized too many good arguments against accepting Nicholas’s proposal.

“I can’t hurt Mother that way,” Daughtry thought aloud. She had taken Poco out for her routine morning ride, grateful to escape the escort her father thought necessary. Pulling back on the reins, Daughtry slipped down from Poco’s back and walked alongside the gelding for awhile. “I can’t just walk away from my responsibilities,” she continued. Poco seemed more interested in the patches of fading green grass than in his mistress’s declarations.

“I’ve always been a good girl,” Daughtry said firmly. “I’ve always been dependable and reasonable. I’ll just have to make it clear to Daddy that I need to be allowed to court and marry and eventually leave Piñon Canyon to make my own home. He’ll come around in time.”

Daughtry studied the landscape for a moment. The rocky western slopes of their property headed upward into the Sangre de Cristo mountain range. Soon snow would cover the magnificent crests and Piñon Canyon would be blanketed in white.

Another winter,
Daughtry thought to herself.
And in January, I’ll be twenty-four.

Daughtry walked on in silence. She had to do the right thing, she reasoned. She had to trust God and endure the situation as best she could. When she got back to the house, she would simply write to Nicholas—no, Mr. Dawson—and tell him that she couldn’t marry him.

She was about to remount Poco when a cloud of dust in the distance caught her attention. Riding hard and fast across the open plain was her father. Daughtry remained on the ground until a worried-looking Garrett reined up beside her.

“You’re on foot,” he said, looking Daughtry over from head to toe. “Is something wrong?”

“No, Daddy,” Daughtry said, taking a defensive tone. “I’m just enjoying the morning.”

Garrett frowned. “Why didn’t you bring someone with you?”

“Because I’m a grown woman and I don’t need an escort. I like to spend time on my own, and I don’t want to have someone following me around all the time. It’s bad enough that you won’t leave me alone.”

Garrett’s eyes revealed his hurt but Daughtry was rapidly growing angry, and her father’s pain was furthest from her mind.

“Daddy, you and I have to talk about this,” Daughtry said firmly. “Why don’t you walk with me a spell.”

Garrett quickly complied and joined his daughter on the ground. He started to speak, but Daughtry held up her hand. “Please let me say what I need to say,” she began. “Then you can tell me what you think and we’ll go from there.”

“All right.”

Daughtry swallowed hard and took a deep breath. She prayed that God would give her the right words to say. “Daddy, I know how much losing Julie hurts you. I hurt too. I miss her, and I wish that she would never have gone out riding that morning. But the truth is, she did, and I can’t change that and neither can you. You can’t change it by smothering me or watching my every step. You can’t do God’s job, Daddy.”

Daughtry stopped and looked at her father for a moment. He was still a young man, vital and strong, and Daughtry knew he was perfectly capable of providing for his family. He’d helped her with so many things in life. He was the one who had helped her find Christ as her Savior. He was also the one who had taught her to ride and shoot and a hundred other things that pertained to her life on the ranch.

“I love you, Daddy,” Daughtry said, looking deep into his eyes. “But I want to get married and have a family. I want a life of my own, and I want you to let me go.”

Garrett looked at her blankly for a moment. “Have you found someone?” he asked softly.

Daughtry smiled ever so slightly at the thought of Nicholas. “I thought I had, but now I’m not sure. I do know, however, that it’s what I want for my life, and I believe it’s what God wants for me too. I don’t want to go to school or hold a job or make a great splash in society. I just want to be a wife and mother. I don’t want to grow old taking care of you and Mother. You’re supposed to care for each other, and we children are supposed to leave the nest.” Garrett nodded, and Daughtry thought he finally understood. Feeling a bit of relief, she offered him a smile.

“Who is it?” Garrett asked without thinking.

“Who is who?”

“Who were you thinking about marrying?” Garrett questioned, and Daughtry could see the determination in his eyes.

“It isn’t important,” Daughtry said in exasperation.

“Well, why don’t you let me be the judge of that.”

“Because I’m a grown woman and you aren’t the judge of my life,” Daughtry stated in anger. “I’m the one who will decide whom I marry and when. This isn’t the Middle Ages, Daddy, and I’m not going to be like Momma and let my father decide for me.” Daughtry stormed past him and remounted Poco with a fury in her eyes that Garrett had never before seen.

“You’re still under my authority, Daughtry,” Garrett said, swinging up into his own saddle. “That gives me a say in what you do.”

Daughtry gripped the reins tightly. She tried to steady her voice before she spoke. “Daddy, you’re making this very difficult. Will you allow me to make some choices for myself? Will you stop shadowing everything I do in the fear that I will end up dead, like my sister?”

Garrett looked at her for a moment before silently shaking his head. “I can’t, Daughtry. God made you my responsibility.”

Daughtry refused to answer. Instead she dug her heels into Poco’s sides, something she rarely did, and flew out across the ground for home. By the time she’d headed into the stable yard, Daughtry had made up her mind. No matter what else happened, she was going to marry Nicholas Dawson! She would have the last word on this and no one, especially not her father, would stand in her way.

Chapter 4

A
t a few minutes before three o’clock in the morning, Daughtry led Poco from his stall. She walked him out past the stables and corrals and moved silently toward the open range. She prayed that she was doing the right thing by leaving, and a part of her sincerely thought she was. She remembered her mother saying on more than one occasion that God often expected a person to step out in faith. Mounting Poco in the New Mexican darkness, Daughtry figured this was as big a step of faith as she could possibly make.

The ride into town was uneventful, and when Daughtry arrived, she quickly tied Poco up outside of the church, knowing that Pastor David would recognize the horse and get him back to Piñon Canyon. She wished she could take Poco with her. At least then she’d have something to comfort herself with at the end of her trip. But arranging to take Poco would require her making her presence known to the freight agent, and he would no doubt remember where she had gone when her father came looking.

Knowing the church would be open, Daughtry took her two heavy bags and slipped inside the dark protection of the sanctuary. Quickly, she pulled on clothes she’d borrowed from Pepita in order to board the train and not be recognized. She pulled a heavy shawl over her head and secured it under her chin. Then, taking her bags in hand, Daughtry made her way to the train depot.

Only a handful of people waited for the five-thirty eastbound. Gratefully, Daughtry didn’t recognize any of them. She waited in the shadows, however, just in case one of them recognized her. When the train whistle blasted through the early morning silence, though, Bandelero was just coming awake, and no one Daughtry knew was anywhere to be seen.

Daughtry grew fidgety waiting for her turn to board, but as soon as she took her place on the nearly empty train car, she began to relax. Freedom, she thought to herself, came at a high price, but she was sure it would be worth it.

Looking out the soot-smudged window, she nearly ducked down at the sight of Dr. Monroe, or Dr. Dan as she affectionately called him. He was hurrying down the street, however, black bag tucked under his arm and a look of determination on his face, and he never glanced at the train. No doubt another medical emergency, Daughtry thought.

Soon the train began its journey, and Daughtry breathed a sigh of relief. When they reached the town of Springer, the conductor announced an hour wait while they took on several carloads of cattle. Daughtry realized this would be the perfect opportunity to find a minister and have the proxy marriage ceremony performed.

Hurrying through the town, she wondered to herself what minister in his right mind would marry two strangers together.
What if I can’t find someone willing to do the job?
Worry flooded her soul. What if she had to turn back, or worse, meet Mr. Dawson without the marriage in place as he’d requested?

Daughtry’s worries were for naught, however. The first minister she approached was more than happy to take her offering of five dollars to perform the proxy service. Armed with marriage papers in hand, Daughtry made her way back to the train, ten minutes before it pulled out and headed east to her new home.

Staring out the window, Daughtry felt something akin to excitement and foolish regret, both at the same time. She was a married woman! She was no longer Daughtry Ann Lucas. Now, she was Daughtry Dawson, wife of Nicholas.

Taking out the photograph of her husband, Daughtry tried to imagine what type of man he was. He looked tall, and she could see that he was broad-shouldered. He looked strong and healthy, maybe even older than she. She realized with a start that she had no idea how old her husband was. Nor did she know whether he’d ever been married before or if he had children.

“What have I done?” she questioned softly, then glanced around quickly to make certain no one else had heard her.

When the train finally arrived at Daughtry’s destination, she panicked. Nicholas wouldn’t know she was coming. She hadn’t sent a telegram or tried to telephone or anything else that would let him know of her arrival. She’d brought a small amount of money with her, enough to rent a room for the night, but fear gnawed at her like a hungry animal. Daughtry had never been on her own before.

She stepped from the train and immediately signaled a man to assist her. “Do you know where the Nicholas Dawson ranch is located?” she asked the man.

“No, Ma’am. I can’t rightly say I’ve ever heard of the man.”

Daughtry’s face fell. Just as she was about to ask the man who might know, another voice sounded from behind her.

“Did I hear you say you were lookin’ for the Dawson place?”

Daughtry turned and met the eyes of a dust-laden stranger. The man was older than her father, but his shoulders and chest were massive.

“Yes,” she managed to say. “I need to get to Nicholas Dawson’s ranch.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” the man said in a noncommittal way. “I’m on my way out there with this load of freight. I just have to finish picking up the rest of it and we can be on our way.”

Daughtry sighed aloud. “You, Sir, are an answer to prayer.”

The man snorted at her declaration and pointed to his wagon. “You just wait over there and I’ll be with you directly. These your bags?” he questioned, glancing at the luggage beside Daughtry.

“Yes.”

“That all you brought?”

“Yes,” Daughtry replied and ignored his look of curiosity.

Without another word, the man took the bags, threw them up into the freight wagon, and went off in the direction of the train. Daughtry hurriedly planted herself by the wagon and was relieved when the man returned fifteen minutes later to finish stacking the cargo.

The afternoon was late when Daughtry and the freighter finally arrived at the Dawson ranch. The man had offered her no name, and, in return, Daughtry hadn’t explained who she was. Now, as the man unloaded his wagon and stacked lumber and supplies inside a rather rundown barn, Daughtry glanced around nervously for her husband. When the freighter finished and Nicholas had still not appeared, Daughtry grew frightened.

“Are you certain this property belongs to Nicholas Dawson?”

“Sure as I am of anything,” the man replied. “I’ve been bringing supplies out here for weeks now. He’s gone a lot, which would explain why he isn’t out here to greet us now. I notice his horse is gone, so there’s no telling where he is or when he’ll be back. Did he expect you?”

“No. Well, yes.” Daughtry tried to answer reasonably. “He didn’t know what day I would get here. Tell me, what else do you know about Mr. Dawson?”

The man eyed her suspiciously for a moment. “Don’t know much. He’s new to these parts. Took this old place off the hands of Widow Cummings and declared he wanted to turn it into a fine ranch again. Other than that, I don’t guess I know anything else.”

“You have met him though?”

“Sure,” the man said and scratched his head. “I take it you haven’t?”

Daughtry shook her head. “No, I haven’t met him yet. I have his picture and a letter, but that’s all.”

“You kin of his?”

“No,” Daughtry replied and smiled weakly. “I’m his wife.” The man burst out laughing, and Daughtry felt foolish for having mentioned the matter.

“Well, I’ll be. I heard he was after gettin’ himself hitched. Didn’t find any prospects in our little town though, and I heard tell he advertised in the papers for one. Is that how you came to marry him?”

Daughtry felt completely stupid. “Yes,” she managed to whisper, “that’s how it happened.”

“Well, I wish you the best, Mrs. Dawson,” the man said, climbing up into the wagon. “Here.” He turned to rummage under the seat of his buckboard and handed her something down. “You might want to order something, then I’ll have a reason to come back out this way.”

Daughtry stared down at the Sears and Roebuck catalog the freighter had just handed her. Daughtry greatly needed his gesture of kindness. “Thank you,” she said softly. “You have been so very kind. What do I owe you for the ride out?”

“Not a thing, pretty lady. Not a thing.” He retrieved his hat, tipped it to her, and moved his horses back out to the road. Within minutes, the dust of his wagon faded into the distance, leaving Daughtry all alone in the middle of nowhere.

“I’ve brought this on myself,” Daughtry said, squaring her shoulders with a look of determination. “I’ve just got to make the best of it.”

She took her bags in hand and headed toward the rundown house. Staring at it in the soft glow of early evening light, Daughtry realized it was sorely neglected. No wonder Nicholas needed a woman who was willing to work hard.
Well,
Daughtry thought to herself,
this will be a challenge, and I will meet it head on and with a light heart.

Her resolve lasted as long as it took to get through the back mud porch and into the kitchen. She could see well enough to realize that the place was hopelessly filthy and in need of more than just a little attention.

Setting her mind to the work at hand, Daughtry decided to do as much as she could to put the place in order before her husband returned. She quickly lighted several lamps and explored the rest of the house in order to determine what should be done first.

Through the kitchen, Daughtry found a small but promising dining room. This connected to a small parlor, and this in turn came out onto a short hall that blended into a vestibule of sorts that ended at the front door. Crossing the hall, Daughtry found a larger sitting room filled with an assortment of odd looking crates, furniture, and a wood stove that had been used recently but not cleaned in a long time. Finding more lamps here, Daughtry lit another and left it to radiate a cheery glow in the room, while she continued to explore.

Back in the hall, she turned and opened the door to a small closet. Farther down, she noticed two more doors and opened one into a small room that looked as though it had been a sewing room at one time. Hadn’t the freighter said the ranch belonged to a widow before Nicholas bought it?

The other door opened into the bedroom, and Daughtry became sudden
ly aware of Nicholas’s masculine presence. Several articles of clothing lay around the room in disarray. Putting the lamp on the nightstand beside the four poster bed, Daughtry picked up a black suit coat and held it in front of her. The shoulders were broader than she’d even imagined. Nicholas must be quite a large man, Daughtry surmised, by the look of his coat.

She picked up other items and stared at them, as if hoping they would answer her unspoken questions. Picking up a pair of discarded jeans, Daughtry held them against her, trying to get an idea of how Nicholas’ size might contrast to her own. She’d worn her brothers’ clothes on many occasions, but they’d always been old clothes they had long outgrown. These were the clothes of a man, not a boy, and Daughtry knew there was no comparison.

Realizing that the sky was getting darker and feeling the need to relieve herself, Daughtry went back down the hall and made her way outside. She instantly spotted the outhouse and started across the yard.

For a moment, she paused to take in the beauty of the sunset. The sun looked like a ball of molten scarlet against the fading colors of the sky. Lavender, so dusty and dark that it was nearly purple, blended into streaks of blue and amber. Daughtry hugged her arms against her body and thanked God for the wonder of it.

“Only God can paint the sky like that,” she sighed.

Back in the house, Daughtry realized she could do little about the house’s untidiness so late in the day. She found a can of peaches and a tin of crackers and made her supper on these. Morning would surely prove to offer her more understanding of her new home.

When she’d finished with the meager provisions, Daughtry extinguished all the lamps but the one she carried with her. She took her bags and made her way to the bedroom. Her only thought was to get a good night’s sleep, but when she was actually in the room once again, Daughtry grew uncomfortable. Should she sleep in his bed? What if he came home in the night?

She was about to make a pallet on the floor, when a mouse scurried across the room and out the door. With a shriek of fright, Daughtry’s mind was made up. Nicholas or no Nicholas, she was sleeping in the bed!