The Brides of Chance Collection Part 37

"I love baked apples." Bryce's hopeful comment earned him black looks from his brothers.

"I don't take any offense at what Gideon said," Paul stated. "It's a matter of protection."

"What if I proved that we could protect ourselves?" Guffaws met Delilah's question.

"Well, if you can prove that, missy, you can go wherever you want." Dan obviously thought she couldn't, or he wouldn't have made the promise.

"Do you all mean that?" In her experience, men thought women were helpless. That made dirty, paunchy, foul-breathed drunks dangerous-which is precisely why she'd learned how to protect herself at an early age. Now as the strapping Chance men winked slyly at each other and gave hearty "Oh sures," that a.s.sumption finally worked in her favor.

"All right, then. As soon as you're all done with your flapjacks, we'll go outside," Delilah decided.

Miriam tugged on her too-short sleeve. "Do you know what you're doing, Delilah?"

That tiny whisper reminded Delilah of how different they really were. "Trust me, Miriam. I have a few tricks of my own."

Dan threw his napkin on the table. "I'm ready. I can't wait to see this. I'm going to go put Polly and Ginny Mae in the play yard."

"If you're ready, I'd suggest you all get your pistols and meet me on the south side of the barn." The men stared at her.

"What for?"

"You'll see soon enough. Miriam, Alisa, would you join me, please?"

After the three women exited the room, Paul looked at his brothers. The expressions ranged from surprised to confused. Dan clearly expected to be entertained, but Paul held a few suspicions. Competency with a firearm became a necessity on the frontier- even for women-but marksmanship denoted long practice of the skill.

He stood up and strode to the door. Logan, Bryce, t.i.tus, and Gideon quickly followed. Dan stayed to the back, with a girl tucked under each arm. When they got to the barn, Delilah quickly outlined the plan.

First, the girls would watch from a safe distance, tucked into a large shipping crate pushed against the barn. Then everyone partic.i.p.ating in the makeshift "contest" would take turns shooting at a large knothole in a slab of wood Bryce leaned against the fence. They all inspected the target up close. Gideon cleared his throat. "Couple of close shots, and that board is going to be nothing but toothpicks."

"We'll use a bale of hay." Dan hiked toward the barn door and called over his shoulder, "Just stick a paper on it and stab a hole as the bull's-eye."

Soon a pencil dot marked the center of the knothole.

"There won't be a bull's-eye left after seven holes are put in it," Logan protested.

"Six," Dan smirked.

"We'll be able to declare a winner, at any rate," Bryce decided.

"How many paces?" t.i.tus asked.

"I'd think ten would be enough, since the test is about self-defense. Agreed?"

Paul figured she was a fair shot, but so were all the Chance men. He resolved not to let her win, no matter how disappointed she'd look later. It wasn't good for a woman to get the idea she could go scampering off wherever and whenever she liked. He'd rather beat her this once than have her run into trouble later.

"Who goes first?" Miriam asked.

"You'll go from youngest to oldest," Alisa directed.

"What about ladies first?" Paul broke in. It would be nice to gauge the compet.i.tion.

"I'd prefer to go last." Delilah ruled that out. "Logan, you're up."

Logan measured off ten paces, turned, and aimed. A few heartbeats after he fired, everyone rushed to the paper to see how he'd fared. Alisa whipped out her measuring tape.

"Two and a quarter inches left of center," she proclaimed as Miriam made a tiny L by the hole.

"Stupid thing always did shoot a bit to the left," Logan muttered about his Navy Colt. Bryce took the next turn. His bullet hit too far right but did slightly better.

"One and seven-eighths inches from center," Alisa announced, and Miriam scribbled a minuscule B.

t.i.tus managed to shoot a bit high. "Best yet, darling," a not-quite impartial Alisa congratulated. "One and a quarter inch from center."

"I object," Logan broke in. "t.i.tus sweet-talked the judge!" Miriam a.s.sured him Alisa measured correctly, and the compet.i.tion continued. Paul's turn came quickly.

Now he'd take his chance to prove that even though he'd gotten thrown from his horse, he could still hold his own. He issued a swift prayer. Lord, I know pride goes before a fall, but since I already fell this week, I'd be mighty obliged if You'd consider it even and let me do well today.

He counted off ten long paces and aimed. While Alisa and Miriam hustled over to the target, he held his breath.

The call of "a half inch right from center" was music to his ears. Anyone would be hard pressed to beat that-even Gideon, whom Paul viewed as his only real compet.i.tion. He risked a look at Delilah. Her appreciative smile took him by surprise, because she seemed completely unruffled. Could she possibly beat him?

Dan shot a little low, "one inch from center," and Gideon matched Paul's shot with "a half inch left from center." The only way Delilah could possibly win would be to shoot dead center between the holes Paul's and Gideon's bullets made.

"Would you like to borrow my gun?" Gideon offered.

To the astonishment of everyone present, Delilah pulled a small Derringer from a pocket in her dress.

"I always carry one of my own." The brothers watched, flabbergasted, as she took ten strides, hardly bothered to aim, and fired.

Paul prayed fervently as Alisa measured. "A quarter inch from center, low." Delilah had won.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun, Delilah decided. Logan seemed awed, Bryce eyed her with a new respect, Dan looked downright mutinous, and Gideon and t.i.tus moped. As for Paul, she averted her face from his piercing gaze.

"I suppose that means we get to go to town after all, ladies," she said, addressing a beaming Alisa and grinning Miriam.

"I don't think so," Dan growled. "You needed to prove that you three women would be protected. What happens after your one shot?" To underscore his point, he s.n.a.t.c.hed the compact gun from her grasp.

"It won't do you much good, and I don't like the thought of you carrying this around my daughters." He stalked off.

Quick as a flash, Delilah grabbed the small knife she kept strapped to her ankle. "Daniel Chance, you will return that." Her voice held a warning even he couldn't completely ignore.

He stopped and turned around. "I don't think so." The next minute, Daniel groped the top of his head and started looking around. Obviously he didn't understand-no sudden breeze had s.n.a.t.c.hed his hat.

His much-used hat hung pinned to the barn behind him by a small knife with a mother-of-pearl handle. As he gaped at it, Delilah swept past, pulled the knife from the wall in a single jerk, and turned to face Daniel, holding his hat behind her back.

"My gun, if you please." She held out a commanding hand.

Daniel all but gnashed his teeth before giving in and getting his hat in return.

A pleased smile spread across her face. "Thank you."

"My hat. My poor hat." Dan sat on his bed, looking mournfully at the hat he held.

Paul bit back a grin. "You shouldn't have tried to take her gun, Dan."

"A girl like that has no business owning a gun. Or being able to handle a knife like that."

"Think about it, Daniel. Her father gambled his way from town to town, dragging her along with him. Who knows what kind of trouble a pretty woman like her ran into? I hate to think of it, but she probably did have occasion to use them." Paul saw the light dawn in Dan's eyes as his habitual scowl deepened.

"Well, she won't need 'em here, that's for sure. And neither will my girls. If anyone comes near a-one of them, I'll skin him alive. Her papa didn't do right by her, poor thing."

Dan's words just about summed up Paul's own feelings on the subject. Paul punched his pillow into shape with more force than was absolutely necessary.

Maybe her father didn't, but I will.

Chapter 5.

Long before the sun came up the next morning, Delilah awoke to someone knocking on her door. Apparently the Chance clan didn't think she'd get up on her own, as this was the second time in as many days. Hastily pulling on her wrapper, she heard Miriam's urgent whisper.

"Delilah? Delilah!"

Delilah wrenched open the door, and Miriam, clad in only her nightgown and robe, scurried in.

"What's wrong?" Delilah demanded, dozens of scenarios in which one or more of this precious family were gravely injured.

"Nothing's wrong!" Upon closer scrutiny, Miriam's face, flushed with cold, seemed more excited than frantic.

"Do you remember how we made b.u.t.ter the day Paul broke his arm, since we could get store credit for it?"

Delilah nodded, confused. "Yes, but it's so early in the morning, Miriam! What's going on?"

"Well, Gideon said last night that any credit I managed to wrangle from Mr. White could be ours to spend however Alisa and I choose!"

"That's wonderful, but my mind's not working well enough this early to figure out why you're jumping like a gra.s.shopper." Obviously her cousin had lost her mind.

"I need your help, and the sooner we start, the better off we'll be. I don't want to go to Alisa and t.i.tus's cabin, so it's up to us to fetch the cream from the springhouse and make as much b.u.t.ter as we can this morning!"

Suddenly all became clear. Miriam wanted the extra currency for their trip to town. Even Delilah knew that pregnant women sometimes had odd starts, but apparently Miriam hadn't gone mad after all.

"All right. Go get dressed, and I'll meet you in the barn so we can milk Sir and Mister."

"Thank you, Delilah!" Miriam rushed out of the room.

Delilah put on her freshly laundered blue serge traveling frock. The widest of her skirts, it permitted her to easily get in and out of the buckboard. Besides, they were setting out early, and the heavy fabric would afford more protection against the sharp morning air.

Throwing on a heavy shawl, she tromped out to the barn. Miriam was already there, starting on Sir. Delilah set a stool next to Mister and started milking. When they'd finished, they hauled the fresh milk to the springhouse.

They brought the cream back into the kitchen, where the paddle churn waited. Delilah scooped in some cream and started churning while Miriam scurried about, feeding the chickens and pigs and gathering eggs-until Alisa came into the kitchen.

"Is it time to start breakfast already?" Miriam couldn't disguise her disappointment. They usually began breakfast at about five o'clock. Since she and Delilah had started working almost two hours before, they'd expected to get more done.

"No, I just woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep. It's about half past four now." Since Alisa had brought back a mantel clock from her old home, she alone knew exact time. "You wanted to get an early start on packing things for town, too?"

"Gideon said we could spend all the credit we get for eggs and b.u.t.ter on whatever we like!"

"Let's get going, then!" Apparently Alisa was quicker on the uptake than Delilah early in the morning. "Where do we stand now?"

Delilah did some quick tabulating. "We made eight bricks on Thursday, and there are still nine in the springhouse from before that. I've finished one this morning, and this batch is ready for rinsing." Alisa took over the churn while Delilah rinsed and pressed the b.u.t.ter.

"Miriam, how are we for eggs?"

"The day Paul broke his arm, we didn't collect the eggs until after breakfast, which was about three dozen. Yesterday we had flapjacks, so I saved another dozen. This morning I collected another three, so we have seven dozen to take to town." Miriam finished packing the eggs and started to pick up a crate. In a few quick steps, Delilah took it from her.

"You shouldn't be lifting anything in your condition. If I catch you trying to haul anything today, I'm going to side with the men and say you shouldn't go to town." She made the warning as ominous as she could, but Miriam just shrugged and started the coffee before getting to work on the oatmeal. Delilah stacked the crates outside the door.

"Not bad," Alisa said approvingly as she plopped the b.u.t.ter into the bowl for the next washing. "I'll have another load of b.u.t.ter done this morning. We should leave one in the springhouse since we'll be wanting to do some baking and one more for the oatmeal this morning. Delilah, how does that add up?"

"Nineteen for town." They didn't have much time left, so everyone buckled down. Delilah just started pressing the final brick of b.u.t.ter when the men began trickling in. First came Gideon, with a smile and a peck on the cheek for Miriam. Logan and Bryce came in next. Logan looked suspiciously at the pot on the stove.

"What's that?"

"Oatmeal," Delilah answered. Logan groaned and grumped about for the remainder of breakfast. Not only was he stuck at home while Paul and the women got to go to town, but he couldn't look forward to the standard three feasts a day. Delilah thought the oatmeal deserved more credit. Miriam added generous amounts of sugar during the cooking, and the b.u.t.ter and preserves on the table let everybody doctor theirs as little or as much as they liked.

During breakfast, the women handed out last-minute instructions. Dan would watch Ginny Mae and Polly. Miriam set out bread and meat for them to make sandwiches for lunch. As soon as the meal ended, the men loaded half of the steer they'd butchered yesterday into the buckboard, along with the eggs Miriam packed while the other women did the dishes.

Usually one of the men would drive, but since Paul had a broken arm, the responsibility fell to the most competent woman. Alisa took the reins because Miriam's delicate condition excluded her from taking on any strenuous activities.

Paul insisted Miriam sit beside Alisa rather than ride in the back with half of a dead steer, which left Delilah to share the cramped s.p.a.ce with him. She took care to sit on his right side so she wouldn't b.u.mp his injured arm. Still, it didn't do much good if he was as uncomfortable as she felt. Her arm pressed against his, and they hunched so close, even their legs touched. As usual, sitting next to him made her feel almost pet.i.te, but the crowded seating arrangement wasn't to her liking. Why did I ever put on this shawl? Delilah wondered. The morning was nothing if not overly warm.

Usually Paul opted to ride Speck rather than pile into the wagon, but for once, he didn't mind being packed in like a sardine. Despite the butchered steer sharing the s.p.a.ce, he relished Delilah's company. Noticing how she took special care to sit on his right gave him an idea. He casually moved a crate of eggs between him and the side of the wagon, pretending to rest his arm on it. Hopefully, she'd never suspect he did it intentionally so they'd have less room.

It worked. The length of her leg pressed against his, her arm against his, and he could catch the scent of violets in her hair. He bit back a grin and leaned back to enjoy the next hour as they rode to town. Yep, he reckoned breaking his arm was probably the smartest thing he'd ever done.

They reached Reliable far too soon to his way of thinking. Miriam and Alisa hitched the horses while he jumped out of the wagon and swept Delilah down with his good arm. The men on the street jabbed each other and gawked at her. If he could, he'd have held on for a lot longer, but he needed to help Miriam. By the time they reached the back of the general store, a horde of bachelors straggled in behind them. Paul glared at each and every one of them, wishing he could make them all leave.

Reba White bustled out to the counter, beaming from ear to ear. "Miriam! Alisa! It's so good to see you again. How've y'all been?" She caught sight of Delilah. "And who's this pretty young thing?"

That let loose a torrent of remarks from the rabble behind them. "Yeah! Who's she?"

"Where'd she come from?"