Mail Order Bride: Christy (5 page)

“I been thinkin’. It weren’t all your fault. I should have realized you would be scared and nervous on your first day here. I should have been more understanding. I'm sorry for yelling at you.”

Christy stared down at her broken case. “I just feel so helpless, that’s all. And I feel like I’ve let both Meredith and my Ma down. If they could see me right now they’d be awful ashamed of my childish behavior, I just know it.”

Brent gazed at Christy, his hand still placed gently on her wrist. Her skin warmed and tingled under his touch, and she watched his lips as he spoke, wondering again how they would feel against her skin.

"I’m sure they wouldn’t be ashamed, Christy,” Brent said softly. “You’re doing your best and you’ve been awful brave so far. It just takes time to adjust, is all.”

Brent turned his head to look at the sun, high over his shoulder. “I’m wondering if we’ll make it back before sun down.”

Christy stared up at the sky as well, though she had no idea how to read the sky nor the distance they had left to travel.

"I don’t want to keep you here against your will. I will take you back to the station the day after tomorrow, if that is what you truly want. But for now, we have to get moving, it's getting late.”

Christy looked down at Brent’s hand, still lying on her arm. His touch was warmer than she might have imagined. And though his hands looked calloused to the eye, on her skin they felt soft.

I know that this isn’t where I belong, even if his touch makes me feel alive inside for the first time in a long time. A simple touch can’t change the fact that I don’t fit here. I was only fooling myself, to think that this scheme could ever work out.

Christy pulled her hand away from his grasp. “Perhaps that would be for the best.”

***

“There’s the wagon,” Christy cried.

She and Brent were walking side by side along the track. Brent looked up, his hands full of suitcases and clothing. He sighed, as if relieved, nodding as he saw the horse standing by the side of the road, grazing on the long, green grass. The long reins dragging along the ground behind him.

“Tired himself out and stopped for some food by the looks of it.”

Brent and Christy were tired as well. They walked slowly towards the horse and wagon, then Brent patted the horse and checked to see if he was well while Christy straightened up in the back of the wagon. They’d only been able to salvage a few of her items and Christy could see that the wagon was bare and that few of her clothes had survived the bolt.

Brent guided the horse over to the wagon, and backed it into the shafts.

“Looks like his collar is fine, and the traces don’t appear to be broken, only torn here where the buckle was attached. I think I can fix it by using a different buckle hole,” Brent squatted down to work on the traces. “There, that should get us home,” he said. “You can get back up now and ride in the wagon,” Brent said to Christy. “Your legs must be tired from the walk.”

Christy looked at the horse. She reached up and patted him gently on the back of his neck. “So must the legs of this poor creature. Come on Brent, let’s walk the rest of the way. Take some of the load off of him. I’m sure if we keep a steady pace we will still make it back before sun down.”

Brent smiled at her. “If you’re sure.”

Christy returned the smile. “I’m sure.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Christy

“Here it is,” Brent said, stretching his arms to show Christy his farmhouse. “It’s not much I suppose, but it’s what I call home.”

The homestead lay in front of them, a beautiful hewn timber structure with a solid roof made of thatching and a wide verandah flowing around the outside of the building. The structure had faded in color under the sun, and had a soft brownish-grey hue, that stood out against the greens and yellows of the grasses surrounding it. There were several good sized glass windows along the front of the house and they looked out over a weed infested front garden, and a dusty wagon track that circled in front of the house and meandered over to the solid square doors of a tall timber barn.

Christy was close to total exhaustion by the time they reached the house, but the sight of it made her wake up. She opened her eyes wide as she looked at the sprawling building. “Wow. You’ve got room for a large family and more inside there! I can see why you were lonely living all alone in such a place!”

Christy stopped talking all of a sudden, blushing when she realized what she’d said. Brent smiled widely at her. It seemed uncouth to her, somehow, to reference the admissions Brent had made in his letters, now that they’d decided the union was a mistake. It felt like those things were too intimate to talk about now.

Christy turned her blushing cheeks away. “I’m sure I’ll be more than comfortable here for a few days. It will be far better than sleeping on the train at any rate.”

Brent nodded and walked Christy up the front path. “Now, I’ve gotta warn ya, it’s a little run down. I'm not much good at housekeeping, and the stock keep me busy outdoors, so...”

He pushed the front door open, and led Christy inside. Christy didn’t think too much of the warning at first. The house looked so lovely from the outside that Christy had little concern about the interior. But the inside of Brent’s farmhouse was another thing entirely. The first room she saw was an open living area, with a place to sit before the hearth at night, and a sturdy dining table. The kitchen lay beyond the dining table, and Christy was pleased to see a stout stove with a pipe leading up to the high ceiling above and through an opening to the clear air beyond. The room was full of dust, cobwebs, and dirt, and lay in complete chaos. Christy wandered around in dismay, looking in each room one by one. Down a wide hallway, she found four separate bedrooms. It seemed to Christy that each room she found was in a worse state of disarray than the one before it.

Brent caught Christy’s expression of horror. “Don’t worry, I'm sure it will clean up just fine.”

Christy smiled wanly at him, "Of course it will. No matter to me, it's safe and dry and that's all I can ask for."

Brent smiled at her, looking relieved. He hurried to put her bags away in her room, and then they both returned to the living room after he had given her a tour of the house. They looked at each other for a moment, and Christy’s stomach flipped once.
Maybe I could stay here after all. Perhaps Brent even wants me to.

Brent stared hard at the fireplace and cleared his throat. “Well you're all set in your room. It’s small, but you’ll only be here a few days, so it ought to suit you. I'll just get a fire going.”

“And where will you sleep then?” Christy asked.

“I don’t want to sleep in Ma’s room, and there ain’t any other beds in the house yet. I’ll sleep on the floor in the living room,” Brent replied quickly, as he set about building a fire in the cozy hearth.

“Oh,” Christy said. “Okay then. Thank you.”

“There’s a bit of bread and cheese here in the kitchen if you’re hungry,” offered Brent, as he bit into a chunk of bread, the crumbs dropping onto the floor around him.

“Thank you,” said Christy, suddenly feeling ravenous. She took a piece of bread from Brent’s outstretched hand, and sat down on a chair at the dining table to eat it. He cleared his throat, and quickly sat down opposite her, removing his hat and placing it on the table beside him. She smiled at him, biting into the crusty bread, savoring the yeasty flavor.

After their meal, Christy retired to the bedroom. She didn’t even unpack her bag, certain that the day after next, Brent would take her back to the train station, and say goodbye to her forever. She hugged herself and stared out through the bedroom window across the darkening farm. A stunning sunset glimmered in reds, oranges and pinks across the waving fields of grass, and Christy's throat tightened as she thought about leaving this place.

I've only just arrived here, and it's already won my heart,
she thought,
and perhaps Brent has too. I can't let him know that though, since he doesn't want me to stay. I'll only have my heart broken. It's best for both of us to make a clean break of it.

Christy prepared for bed, and lay down, still watching the sun setting over the horizon. It had been a day full of surprises and she had survived them all. Maybe she was capable of enduring more than she had ever thought she could.

***

The following day Brent was up bright and early to tend to his livestock.

“Oh dear, I must have slept for hours!” Christy said, chiding herself when she woke up to see that the sun was high in the sky. She washed up using a small jug of water and a cloth that sat on a bedside table in her room, and wandered out to the kitchen to find something to eat for breakfast. Brent had left a hard-boiled egg sitting on the bench, with a note beside it that read, “Good morning!” She smiled, and cracked the egg open, biting into it with relish. Christy felt guilty about sleeping so late when Brent had obviously gone straight to work first thing. But she gave herself a little concession for being tired after a long journey. Though she still intended to return to Topeka the next day, she didn’t want Brent thinking her lazy. She gazed around the dusty and disorganized farmhouse. In the bright light of day it didn’t seem as bad as it had the previous night.

“Hmm,” Christy mused to herself. “Plenty of room for improvement. And I know just the thing!”

Christy headed straight out into the fields and gathered as many wild flowers as her arms could manage. Once the first load was delivered to the house she went back for a second. Following that she rummaged around for some makeshift vases and made sure that each room of the house was filled with the sweet scent of wild flowers.

Christy stood still and took a deep breath. “Now, that’s more like it.”

Next she set to work dusting away all the dirt and cobwebs, and scrubbing every surface in the house sparkling clean. With a fresh breeze blowing through the windows the scent of warm grasses and wildflowers filled the entire structure, and the old farmhouse seemed to take on a whole different character.

Christy allowed herself a moment to admire her handiwork.
It looks so lovely now! It’s such a shame I have to leave here tomorrow! And what will I do then? Where will I go?

She sat still for a moment, letting the tears fall. Christy knew that she was capable of taking care of herself. Especially with the small amount of money left to her by her parents, she could make her way to California and study for her teaching certificate. But even though she knew it was possible to make it on her own, she found herself feeling miserable about the whole thing. She wasn’t sure exactly why, but there was something about this place that made her want to stay and put down roots. Something about the beautiful countryside and the charming farmhouse seemed so homey to Christy, and it had been a while since she’d felt at home anywhere.

Even though the house had been in such disarray when she first entered it only hours ago, she had already begun to imagine spending evenings knitting or reading in front of the hearth, sitting side by side with Brent. She could picture herself cooking meals in the kitchen for their growing family, surrounded by the laughter and shouts of children that would fill the spacious homestead. She had begun to believe she never would again feel at home after losing her parents, and yet here in Oklahoma she had discovered a place she felt inextricably connected to. She stared out the window at the swaying grasses, and lowing cattle grazing peacefully and let out a long sigh. It was a beautiful country to live in.

Christy shook her head, and took a deep breath. There was no point imagining a future for herself here. Brent had made it very clear that she was to return on the train to Topeka tomorrow, so she should just accept it and start thinking what her new life might look like. Maybe teaching would become a passion for her, she certainly enjoyed the company of children, and she had heard that California was a wonderful place for adventure.

Just after noon, Christy walked out to the front porch to beat the dust out of the living room rug. She could see Brent coming up over the hill with a farm hand and a herd of cattle in tow. Christy stood very still as she watched Brent and the boy work down by the coral. They were branding the cattle one by one, the boy held the cattle in place while Brent brandished the branding iron. The sun was beating down hard on them — Christy could see why Brent’s skin was so suntanned.

It must be hard work, running this farm,
Christy thought, still watching Brent’s lithe body as he worked.
If I stayed here, I would be able to help him out.
Suddenly Christy’s mind was racing as she imagined the life they could live together ― Brent rearing and branding the cattle, while Christy took time decorating the house, arranging it so it would be the perfect sanctuary for Brent to come home to every night. She sighed again loudly, and strode back into the house to replace the rug on the floor.

Just then, Christy noticed a large lemon tree standing outside the back door. She walked outside and discovered several bright yellow lemons that looked bright and juicy. Pulling them from the branches of the tree she placed them in her apron, and carried them back into the house. Walking into the kitchen, she placed the lemons on the counter and then noticed a basket beside the back door. She lifted it on to the counter top. Christy rummaged around the kitchen finding half a loaf of bread, some cured ham hanging in the larder, and a basket of freshly plucked tomatoes and cucumbers on the kitchen counter. She set to work making sandwiches and lemonade, and filled the basket with the goodies and a blanket before carrying it out the door to the cattle yards where Brent and the boy were working.

Brent looked up as Christy walked towards him, and he smiled warmly at her.

“What have you got there?” he asked.

“I thought you might be hungry,” said Christy, shading her eyes with one hand while holding the picnic basket in the other.

Brent nodded over towards a shady spot under a large oak tree beside the barn. “We sure are, why don’t the three of us all picnic over there together?”