Beaten, Broken, Abandoned—Until A Cowboy Found The Mail-Order Bride

Chapter 4

The days that followed were a long series of small humiliations and hard-earned victories. Margot learned that milking a cow required a strength and rhythm she did not possess. She learned that chickens were mean-spirited creatures that attacked without provocation. She learned that carrying water from the well in winter meant frozen fingers and aching shoulders, and that keeping a fire going required constant attention, and that laundry in Wyoming was nothing like sending delicate things to a professional in Boston.

More than once she found herself alone in the barn, tears of frustration freezing on her cheeks, wondering what madness had brought her to this place. But each time she thought about the alternative — Vincent Jr.’s hands on her, his casual assumption of ownership, the slow death of her spirit that would come from being trapped in Boston with no money, no family, no options — she straightened her back.

This was hard. But it was her choice. And that made all the difference.

Lily watched everything with those solemn brown eyes, saying little but missing nothing. She did not warm to Margot, but neither did she actively oppose her presence. It was a cold truce, and Margot accepted it as the best she could hope for.

Two weeks after her arrival, on a particularly bitter afternoon, Margot was in the stable attempting to brush down one of the horses. The animal, a large gelding named Thunder, was not cooperating. He kept dancing away from her awkward attempts, clearly sensing her fear and inexperience.

“You have to show him you are not afraid,” a small voice said.

Margot turned to find Lily standing in the stable doorway. The child walked forward with the confidence of someone who had grown up around animals. “Here. Like this.”

Lily demonstrated the proper technique, her small hands moving with practiced ease. The horse immediately calmed under her touch. Margot watched, then tried to imitate the movements. It was still not quite right, but Thunder tolerated it.

“Thank you,” Margot said softly.

Lily nodded, then hesitated. “Miss Bennett. Why did you come here? Really. Papa thinks you are running from something.”

Margot considered lying, then decided the child deserved honesty, or at least as much as she could safely give. “You are very perceptive, Lily. Yes, I am running from something. From someone who wanted to control my life. Coming here was my way of choosing my own path.”

“Is he going to find you?”

The directness of the question took Margot’s breath away. “I hope not. But if he does, your father has promised to help me. And I promise I will never bring danger to you intentionally.”

Lily studied her for a long moment with eyes far too old for her five years. “I believe you,” she said at last.

Then, in a gesture that made Margot’s throat tighten, the little girl reached out and took her hand. “Come on. I will show you how to feed the chickens without getting pecked.”

That afternoon, as Margot followed Lily around the ranch, listening to the child’s earnest explanations of how things worked, she felt something shift inside her. This place, these people — they were becoming real to her in a way Boston society never had. The work was hard, the conditions harsh, but there was an honesty to it she had never experienced before.

That night, Caleb found her sitting on the porch despite the cold, wrapped in one of Sarah’s old quilts, staring up at the cloudless sky.

“You will freeze out here,” he said. But he sat down beside her anyway.

“I needed air. And I have never seen so many stars. In Boston, there are too many lights.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Then Caleb spoke.

“Lily told me you two spent the afternoon together. That is the most she has talked to anyone since Sarah died.”

“She is a remarkable child. You have done well with her, alone.”

“I had help. Ida, mostly.” He paused. “I know this is not what you expected, Miss Bennett. This life. I am sorry about that.”

Margot turned to look at him. His profile was strong in the starlight, and she realized that despite the hardship, despite the constant feeling of inadequacy, she was not unhappy here.

“Please call me Margot. And as for expectations — nothing in my life has turned out as expected. At least here, I am choosing my own path.”

“Are you?” he asked quietly. “Or are you just running?”

“Both,” she admitted. “Can it not be both?”

Before Caleb could answer, a sound cut through the night. The thunder of approaching horses, moving fast.

Caleb was on his feet in an instant, his hand going to the rifle that stood by the door. Margot rose as well, her heart suddenly racing.

“Get inside,” Caleb ordered, his voice sharp. “Now.”

But she did not move. She was frozen by a fear that went deeper than cold, because she recognized that sound. It was the sound of pursuit. The sound of men who rode with purpose.

Three riders emerged from the darkness, pulling their horses to a stop at the edge of the property. They were rough-looking men, dressed for travel, with the hard eyes of men who practiced violence as a profession. The leader — a man with a scarred face and a black beard — looked directly at the porch.

“Evening,” he called out, his voice carrying across the frozen yard. “We’re looking for someone. A woman from Boston. Auburn hair, educated voice, fine clothes. We know she bought a ticket on the Union Pacific. Got off at Cheyenne about three weeks back. Been riding to every ranch and homestead within thirty miles asking around. Figured if a woman like that showed up in these parts, somebody would’ve noticed. You folks seen anyone matching that description?”

Caleb’s grip on the rifle tightened. “This is private property. You have no business here.”

The bearded man smiled, and it was not a pleasant expression. “Now that ain’t very neighborly. We’re just asking questions. See, this woman stole something that don’t belong to her. The man who owns it wants it back. He’s willing to pay good money for information.”

“There is no one here but my family,” Caleb said firmly. “Now move along, before I decide you are trespassing with intent.”

The three men exchanged glances. The leader shrugged. “Fair enough. But if you do happen to see a woman matching that description, you let us know. We’ll be in Cheyenne for a few more days. Name’s Garrett. Anyone at the Silver Dollar Saloon can point you our way.”

They turned their horses and rode off into the darkness, but the threat lingered in the air like smoke.