His thoughts rambled in his head on the ride into town. If Cora would leave, maybe the women would be more agreeable. At least Elizabeth might be. Grace seems smitten with Clay. Cora would never leave. Maybe Grace would leave, but he doubted it. He’d think of something.
When Wade pushed through the batwing doors of the saloon, he was met by shouts of congratulations and a few yelling condolences. The pretty barmaid that always rushed to meet him stood near the bar looking forlorn. He found an empty table and pulled out a chair.
“Whiskey,” he hollered as he sat. The pretty barmaid didn’t bring his drink, but a different woman he’d seen a few times set the glass in front of him.
“Drinking whiskey on your wedding day? Where’s your wife, honey?” She asked.
“In the guest room,” Wade mumbled.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Want some company?”
Wade merely nodded as she dropped into the chair next to him. She chattered like a magpie trying to keep Wade’s mind off his problems, but Wade tuned her out and let his mind run through everything he could possibly do short of killing Clay that would get him the ranch. What would his grandfather insist on next? A first grandchild? He knew he had to think of something and fast. Each day that passed would make life more difficult. Even though grandpa was still in charge, Wade knew the day would come that Clay would take over.
He drank his whiskey, and the barmaid returned with the bottle and poured him another. He downed it, and his mind began to think darker thoughts. The problem wasn’t Cora. She was always trying to tell them what to do. It wasn’t with Elizabeth. She was beautiful, and her red-blonde hair intrigued him. He could woo her and make her happy. Having a wife wasn’t the worst thing in the world. A wife. That was the problem. Not his wife, but Clay’s. If Grace left, that would solve the problem. He threw back another shot of whiskey, dropped some coins on the table, and left for home. He would treat Elizabeth well and think of a way to send Grace packing.
Chapter Seven
Supper was a quiet affair. Each family member seemed to be caught up in their own thoughts. Grandpa Hutchison wondered if he’d made a mistake insisting the boys marry. Cora was positive grandpa created a storm when he pitted the boys against each other. Clay and Grace caught each other sneaking glances and smiled together. Elizabeth picked at her dinner trying to come up with a way to travel to another town, any town, and start over.
Cora had just cleared the pie plates when Wade arrived home. The smell of the saloon wafted into the dining room before he did, and Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from crying.
“Looks like I made it in time for supper,” Wade’s words slurred as he spoke.
“Barely,” answered Cora. “I can make you up a plate, and you can go sit on the porch. Maybe the breeze will freshen you some.”
Wade scowled at Cora but answered. “Let Elizabeth make me up a plate. After all, she’s my wife.” He winked at Elizabeth, and she popped up off her chair so fast she nearly toppled it over. She wanted to toss his food on the floor but returned a few minutes later with a plate full of food.
“This looks good,” Wade mumbled. “Come on, you can join me on the porch while I eat.” Elizabeth followed silently like a lost puppy.
Clay reached for Grace’s hand. “Would you like to take a walk?”
“Yes, that would be lovely,” Grace answered and smiled at him.
They left the house through the kitchen door hoping to avoid Wade and whatever foolishness he might be telling Elizabeth. Clay had a hunch Wade would fall asleep as soon as he finished eating and spare Elizabeth his drunken behavior.
“Tomorrow we can take a ride and see the entire ranch if you wish. You do ride, don’t you?”
“Yes, but only with a side saddle,” Grace teased.
Clay stopped walking. “What? We don’t have one.”
Grace giggled. “I can ride astride. My father taught both my brother and me how to ride when we were small. My mother was horrified that her daughter would ride astride and insisted I use a side saddle. When she passed, father and I moved to the city, and the few times I was fortunate to ride, I always chose to ride astride. I preferred to race with the wind in my hair and not just stroll around the park like the other proper young women. My poor mother, God rest her soul, would have been horrified, but my father spoiled me.”
Clay looked at his bride and tried to imagine Grace’s coffee-colored hair blowing behind her as she galloped across the fields. Tiny hints of deep gold wove through what he thought must be curls, and he desperately wanted to reach over and undo the pins holding her hair. How beautiful she was, and he could only imagine how she would look with her hair cascading down around her shoulders. She was his bride, but he needed to wait. Soon he would see her hair flowing down her back.
Grace tugged at his hand. “You stopped walking. Are you all right? You look deep in thought.”
“You’re beautiful,” is all he could stammer.
Grace smiled and whispered, “Thank you.”
Clay shook his head and came back to his senses, “There’s a bench under the Cottonwood tree by the pond. We can sit there and talk. I think we have a lot to talk about.”
Grace sat on the bench looking out at the small pond. “This is a lovely spot. I can see why you added a bench.”
“Actually, my pa built the first bench for my ma shortly after they were married. We’ve
