Mail Order Jennifer Read online

  “But you don’t want a baby. I can’t leave him. I’d sell myself in the street before I did.”

  Her impassioned words punched the breath from his lungs. It took a few moments for him to get himself under control. “I didn’t mean for you to not bring him, but there are conditions if we were to marry.”

  “Yes, I’ll marry you.” Her eagerness should have pleased him, only it didn’t.

  “You haven’t heard my conditions yet.”

  “Unless it’s something criminal I’ll do it.” Jennifer knew she had no choice. He seemed a decent enough man. A hard worker too by the looks of his slightly callused fingers. And he wasn’t dirty or uncouth. Beggars can’t be choosers. She remembered the words from somewhere, probably her mother who used to have all these little sayings.

  If she didn’t marry Clay, begging in the streets was a distinct possibility.

  “It will be a marriage in name only, so we can have it annulled as soon as the twelve months is up. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  “I won’t expect you to do heavy work, but I would want you to cook, clean and do a few simple chores outside.”

  “I’ve lived on a ranch most of my life, so yes – agreed.”

  “You will keep the child away from me as much as possible.”

  She hesitated.

  “I would never hurt him, but I just don’t want to have him near me.”

  “….agreed.”

  “Okay, let’s go and get ourselves hitched.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah, I spoke to the preacher the other day when I picked up the telegram.”

  “You were confident.”

  He grinned. “I’m a good catch.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, I would be if I’d had enough time to court a gal properly. Well…” His mouth twisted. “I didn’t do too well last time. I mean with Roseanne. She dumped me for another man.”

  He couldn’t have loved her otherwise he would have been more upset at her treachery.

  He paid the woman for their tea and coffee. They walked out on to the porch together.

  “That’s my buckboard over there, I’ll collect your luggage.”

  He lifted her up on to the buckboard.

  “That woman wasn’t worthy of you.”

  He ignored her comment, just strode toward the luggage that was stacked on the porch.

  ~*~

  As they drove away from the preacher’s home, Jennifer glanced down at the simple gold wedding band Clay had placed on her finger only a few minutes ago.

  “Do you need anything from the mercantile? We can get it now and save coming back again. I normally only come in every month or so.”

  “Do you have plenty of flour, sugar, tea, coffee?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anyway, I guess I could drive myself in as you don’t live that far from town.”

  “With him?”

  “Him? My son’s name is Sam, and yes, with him. Look, Clay. I’m prepared to do anything you ask of me, but I will not stand any ill-treatment of my child.”

  “Ill-treatment,” he growled. “You think I’d ill-treat a baby?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d kill anyone who hurt him.” Jennifer was starting to regret marrying Clay. Perhaps his gentlemanly veneer had been only that, a cover up to hide a vicious streak.

  “I’ve never hit a woman in my life, or a child, either. If you have such a low opinion of me why agree to the marriage in the first place?”

  “You seemed so, so nice before.”

  “I am nice. I won’t treat you mean, Jennifer, the baby, either. I swear it. It. It’s just that…, kids upset me. We’ll go straight to the ranch now, and after a couple of days when you see what my supplies are like, we can come in again.”

  “All right. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. I’ve never met a man who doesn’t like children.”

  “I don’t dislike them, they just upset me.” He glanced across at her. “I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

  “You only have to put up with us for twelve months then you’ll be rid of us.”

  “Yeah.”

  She wondered why the thought displeased her.

  “Tell me what happened to your husband.”

  She clutched Sam tightly. “He was killed in an accident.” Once she started talking about it the words flowed freely. How he’d sacrificed his life for Sebastian, how the Julians had treated her so badly afterward.

  “Those low-down polecats.” He covered her hand with his. “I’m sorry, you’ve obviously had a bad time of it. You’re not to worry anymore. Even though this isn’t a proper marriage I’ll look after you both. When the twelve months is up, I’ll give you enough money to start a new life.”

  “Thank you.” She didn’t know why she believed him. Perhaps it was the sincerity ringing in his voice. Something terrible must have happened to turn him off children. It was the only explanation for his strange behavior.

  “What’s your ranch called?”

  “Half Moon. Our brand is a half moon, with a circle around it. There’s a mountain range at the back of us, we’ve got a creek. I’ve got about 8,000 acres, which is enough for me to handle on my own. At busy times I usually hire a couple of cowhands.”

  They crossed a river, the horse’s hooves clattering on the boards woke Sam who started crying.

  “Shush, baby, it’s all right. I’ll give you a drink as soon as we get to the ranch.”

  “I can stop if you need to give him a feed.”

  The crying grew louder. A spasm of irritation crossed his face. “Feed him for goodness sake. I don’t want to put up with him bellowing the rest of the way home.”

  He was obviously in a hurry to get home but was prepared to stop so Sam’s crying wouldn’t annoy him. After pulling up under the shade of a tree, he helped her down.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll turn my back.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry, Clay.”

  “Don’t apologize, just shut him up. It can’t be good for a baby screaming like that.”

  He turned his back and she undid the buttons on her bodice and pushed it down over one shoulder. The moment the little mouth clamped on her nipple silence reigned. “Don’t gulp, baby. You’ve got yourself all hot and bothered for nothing.”

  She would change him when they got to the ranch. Clay was pacing up and down a few yards away impatient to be off. It was so quiet and peaceful here she could heart the faintest sound of water flowing over rocks and leaves whispering in the trees.

  “Don’t move,” Clay suddenly shouted.

  She froze, such was the intensity in his voice.

  “Snake.”

  She glanced down and her blood turned to ice. A snake lay within a couple of inches of her shoe. Sweat poured down her face. One false move and it would strike.

  “On the count of three,” he said, “leap to your right.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can. I can’t shoot it while it’s so close to you.” Clay stared at her, his eyes slightly narrowed, lips pursed.

  “You’re putting the baby at risk, too.”

  She glanced at Sam whose face was nestled against her breast.

  “One. Two. Three.” She leapt to one side and almost simultaneously a shot rang out. Clay had blown the creature’s head off although the rest of the body still twitched.

  The baby lifted his head. Clay gave a stifled groan and she realized her bodice was opened from her neck almost to her waist and her breast was exposed. The shocked expression in his eyes changed to, well she didn’t quite know what.

  “Cover yourself, darlin’.”

  Her hands were shaking so much she could barely hold Sam, let alone fasten her buttons at the same time.

  “I won’t offer to button your dress up.” He grinned. “I’d probably earn myself a slap across the face.”

  “Here, you hold him.” Without thinking s
he thrust the baby into his arms. As she hurriedly tidied herself up, he stood stiff as a board clutching Sam.

  “Thank you for saving our lives.”

  He quickly handed the baby back to her. “There was no guarantee it was going to strike, but I couldn’t take the risk.”

  “You’re a good shot.” She was trembling so much she had to let him help her back to the buckboard.

  “Yeah, before I took up ranching, I earned my living with a six-shooter. Has he had enough to drink?”

  “Enough to keep him going until we get to your place.”

  Clay’s house was built of horizontal wooden boards which were weathered silver by the elements. It had a porch all round by the looks of it. A large loft window overlooked the front yard. The barn, stable, in fact all the outbuildings, appeared to be constructed from the same material as the house. The fences she could see in the home pastures were post and rail.

  “It looks like a good ranch.”

  “It’s okay, needs a bit of work. I have to warn you, inside it’s badly in need of a woman’s touch.” He shrugged. “I’m happy the way it is, but if you want to pretty it up a bit you can.”

  He pulled the buckboard up in the front yard and lifted her down. “I’ll put your luggage on the porch then see to the horse. Look around inside if you want. You can have the main bedroom. There’s a smaller one in the loft I’ll sleep there.”

  “I can’t take your bed.”

  “Are you offering to sleep with me?” He quirked an eyebrow.

  She swallowed quickly. “No.”

  “I thought not. The baby will have to sleep with you. I don’t have any kid stuff here.”

  While she hesitated on the porch, he strode back to the buckboard, hoisted her trunk on one shoulder and carried the carpet bag as if they weighed nothing.

  “Go on, in you go.” She hurried ahead of him and held the door open.

  He deposited the luggage inside, sketched her a salute and strode off.

  She glanced around the large parlor as her English parents would have called it. It was tidy enough although dusty and shabby. A door to the side was probably the bedroom. She peeked inside. The furniture was old, well worn, yet obviously solid.

  The large double bed had a multi-colored patchwork quilt on it. Faded brown curtains covered the window. Sam was half asleep. She changed him and laid him in the middle of the bed. There was simply nowhere else to put him.

  The floor, he wouldn’t fall from there. She eased the quilt out from under him, folded it in half then half again and put it in the corner before gently placing him down on it.

  After taking off her bonnet, she patted her hair back into place. Her dress was like a creased up grubby rag. No point changing it now. Making sure Sam was settled, she hurried out into the parlor.

  At the end of the room a door stood ajar. She pushed it open. Ah, the kitchen. There was a small free-standing cook stove and a large fireplace. A pine table with four chairs was pushed up against one wall. A narrow staircase obviously led to the loft. The fire was stone cold. She built it up with the neatly chopped wood and kindling she retrieved from a wooden box on the hearth and lit it. She hated wasting the ashes which could be used to make lye soap if that’s what he used, but there wasn’t time to clean it out right now.

  Once the fire was burning to her satisfaction, she set the coffee pot on one of the hot plates. She didn’t particularly like coffee but could drink a weak one.

  There was only a couple of hours until sunset. What could they have for supper? She inspected the old kitchen dresser. There were lots of tins of beans and not much else. A small amount of flour was stored in a large ceramic pot, a smaller one contained sugar. There was a tin of molasses, unopened by the looks of it, and a bag of salt. She would need to go shopping for supplies. Obviously, Clay must have just about lived on beans.

  She walked back into the parlor and opened the carpet bag to retrieve an apron. Her dress was dusty and crumpled but she didn’t want to risk getting it stained. She wasn’t sure where the root cellar was although Clay had mentioned having one. Tomorrow she would give the house a thorough clean.

  She checked the room to make sure nothing was lying around that could hurt Sam. A folded newspaper caught her eye. She picked it up and placed it on a set of drawers. Sam had a habit of scrunching up paper and trying to eat it.

  Dare she go outside and check for eggs? Sam was tired so he would sleep for a while. There were chickens as she could hear a rooster crowing. Checking one last time on the baby, she hurried out to the kitchen, grabbed a chipped bowl from the dresser and dashed outside, making sure to close the door behind her.

  Chapter Seven

  Striding up the back path with the milking bucket, Clay passed Jennifer. She sure was pretty, now he could see her without the bonnet framing her face and covering her beautiful hair. Easy to see where the baby got his blonde curls from.

  “I’m collecting eggs to cook for our supper.”

  “Okay. I’ve brought you some milk. Where’s the….”

  “He’s asleep.”

  “Okay.” He strode inside and glanced around the kitchen. She had only been here a short time and already the place looked cleaner. Maybe this forced marriage wouldn’t be so bad after all. She could obviously cook or otherwise she wouldn’t be worrying about supper.

  Honesty made him admit it. He was sick and tired of having beans most days. A couple of times a week he fried potatoes and greens with the beans, all in together and ate that. He didn’t mind slaughtering a pig now and again and smoking it, although he begrudged killing any of his cattle. Anytime he went into town he had a steak at the diner, which eased his craving for beef.

  After placing the bucket on the table, he stepped into the parlor. Blast the woman, she’d moved his paper and he hadn’t finished reading it. Even if it was a few days old, the cattle prices were still relevant.

  He picked it up and made for his favorite armchair. Something was niggling at him. Claymoore. He scanned each page and halfway through it read about a Ralph Claymoore being arrested for fraud and false pretenses. She’d had a lucky escape. He shuddered to think what fate might have befallen her at the hands of a man like that. Probably didn’t have any real intention of marrying her at all.

  I’m not good husband material, either, but at least I’m not a criminal. What in tarnation was that? Something was crawling over his leg. He lifted the paper up and a shocked breath escaped him. A plump baby hand was hitting at his knee.

  “What do you want?” He stared into the baby’s eyes. “Your ma is outside. If you’re after a feed, I can’t give it to you.” He gave a cracked laugh.

  The child gabbled away. He obviously wanted something, but he had no idea what. “You’re not getting my paper if that’s what you want, you can’t read.” He laughed at the ridiculous statement he had just made. It proved he was right in not having anything to do with kids, apart from being dangerous to them, he was ignorant as well.

  When the baby held his arms up, it took a few moments before he realized the child wanted to be picked up. His little face started to screw up. He was getting ready to let out a roar. What was taking Jennifer so long? Pick him up or put up with his bellowing. He chose the lesser of the evils and lifted the child on to his knee and was rewarded with a dribbling smile.

  “I wish your ma would hurry up. Hey, don’t pull my hair.” He untangled the baby fingers. “I don’t fancy being bald.”

  Suddenly he felt it, a wetness on his knee. He jumped up, almost dropping the child in his haste. The kid was wet as dung. He strode into the kitchen and out the back door. “Jennifer.” He raised his voice. “Jennifer.”

  She dashed out from behind the hen house and skidded to a halt.

  “This kid wet on me. Here, you take him, I’ll carry the eggs.”

  “He needs changing.”

  “Yeah, well so do I. Look at this?” He pointed to the wet patch on his pants.
/>
  “You wet all over Clay.” She cuddled the baby close. “That was naughty.” Laughter gave a lilt to her voice which did funny things to his inside. “You only have to put up with this kind of disruption for twelve months then you’ll be free of us.”

  He couldn’t believe how he didn’t like the thought. The kid peeing on him must have addled his brain.

  Holding the door open he stepped aside so she could enter the kitchen first. She wore an apron over her dress he suddenly noticed.

  “Where’s your root cellar?”

  “At the end of the porch.”

  “There’s nothing there except a trap door in the wall.”

  “Yeah, well, that is the root cellar. Don’t worry about it now, you’re tired, just whip me up something quick and easy.”

  “Fried eggs and I can do pancakes.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “It mightn’t be enough.” She gnawed her lower lip. It was full and pink, and he wouldn’t mind tasting it himself. Whoo-up, what was he thinking? Unconsummated marriage. Quick annulment once the twelve months was up. She would leave. It was what he wanted.

  He had an awful feeling deep within his gut things weren’t going to be that easy. Jennifer was a fine looking, gal, obviously capable. A perfect wife for a rancher, but not him. “Sorry, what did you say?” He tried to gather his wits.

  “I could do the milking for you, Clay. It would free you up for other more important chores.”

  “Thanks, I am hard pressed sometimes to get everything done. What about the baby?”

  “I can do it easily even with Sam, other chores I’m not so sure about.”

  “It will be enough if you can keep me fed and look after my other creature comforts.”

  “Other?” Her eyes widened with shock.

  “I don’t mean share my bed.”

  “Oh, that’s a relief.” She gave him a beautiful smile and he nearly crumpled at the knees. This marriage in name only was fraught with dangers he hadn’t anticipated.

  “I’ll take Sam in and change him,” she said as if she couldn’t wait to get away from him.