Chapter Four

Nick

The day’s work had started before dawn. Nick and his two brothers, along with the cowboys who worked for them, had ridden to the north pastures to round up the cattle and sort them. Half would remain, and the other half would be culled, and eventually herded to Fort Worth to the cattle auction.

Seth’s wife Laura and Will’s wife Charlotte came out midday. Charlotte drove the buckboard. Laura rode beside her. The wagon was loaded with food and drink for the men.

After lunch Nick sat with his back against a tree, debating whether he wanted to close his eyes for a spell. He had about decided it wasn’t worth the trouble, when he saw Charlotte and Laura make a beeline for him. They left the buckboard and walked with a purposeful step. He knew without a doubt that his sisters-in-law were scheming. Between the two of them, Charlotte had the better poker face. Laura was as sweet as could be and never managed to keep from grinning when she had something up her sleeve.

This was going to be about finding a wife, judging from their determined gait.

The two women crossed the grassy meadow, making their way past the ranch hands who lolled on the ground, either finishing their lunch or napping.

“Oh, Nick, could we trouble you for a moment?” Charlotte asked.

Laura’s smile widened. She walked a little more slowly than Charlotte, her hand set on the curve of her stomach. Just last month, Seth had announced they were expecting.

“Yes, ma’am,” Nick said warily, eyeing the newspaper in Charlotte’s hand.

She held it up and waved. “I have a newspaper from Fort Worth. There’s an advertisement that might be of interest to you.”

“Doubtful,” he replied.

“Wait till you see,” Laura said as they drew near.

The two women gathered their skirts and sat down on the grass, one on each side of him.

Charlotte held out the paper and read the advertisement’s bold print. “Miss Petit’s Bridal Broker, Boston Massachusetts.”

“Hold up, Charlotte,” Nick said. “I’ve already tried that route. Didn’t work out for me.”

“Ah, but not with a broker,” Laura said. “Miss Petit vouches for each girl.”

Nick sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes. Suddenly he felt tired and a nap sounded extra inviting. “What’s that supposed to mean? These girls come with a guarantee or something?”

“That’s exactly right,” Charlotte said. “Miss Petit meets with them and gets letters of reference. Then she pairs the girl up with the gentleman seeking a bride. She’s sort of like a matchmaker.”

“Some stranger is going to pick out a bride for me?”

Laura nodded. “All you have to do is send a letter telling a little about yourself.”

This was sounding worse by the minute. What would he tell Miss Petit? And how could he know if she would find him the right woman? Even if there was such a thing as a guarantee, what difference would it make if the woman had already come all the way to Texas?

“That’s mighty kind of you two ladies. Why don’t you let me give it some thought? When I have a little time, I’ll write Miss Petit a nice long letter. How would that be?”

Charlotte laughed. “You don’t need to worry about a thing, Nick Travis. Laura and I have already written one for you.”

“Come again?”

“We wrote the letter for you. I was ready to mail it, but Laura didn’t think that was the right thing to do, mailing a letter on your behalf.”

Nick frowned at the women, but neither seemed to notice.

Laura spoke. “This evening, after you men come in from the range, we’d like you to join us for dinner, so we can go over the particulars of the letter.”

Nick shook his head. “I’m not doing business with a matchmaker and I’m for darned sure not sending for another bride.”

Charlotte nodded. “You look like you slept in those clothes. Don’t you have help?”

“Sure, he does,” Laura said. “I sent over a woman to help with cooking and cleaning last Friday.”

“I didn’t like her,” Nick muttered.

Laura drew a sharp breath. “Did you run her off? Already?”

“No. She left on her own. Something about me being testy.”

“You don’t have anyone helping you?” Charlotte asked.

He shook his head. “I like the house to myself. That last one kept fussing about the way I kept things.”

“But you don’t keep things,” Charlotte exclaimed. “Your house is like a bear’s den.”

“It’s the way I like things.”

“Charlotte and I had a lot of fun writing your letter, Nick. We told Miss Petit how hard you work. How you’re the nicest of the Travis brothers, and tall and terribly handsome.”

Nick rubbed the scar that spanned his face, the result of being on the wrong side of a knife fight. “Did you tell them about my scar, too? I’m not exactly terribly handsome these days.”

Charlotte waved a dismissive hand. “That scar makes you even more handsome.”

“This is a bunch of nonsense. I’m not sending for a girl. Not now. Not ever.”

“We wrote how good you are with animals. How you’re gentle and patient.”

“Not with people. The older I get, the less patience I have with folks.”

Seth and Will wandered over, their smiles widening to grins. Nick felt a wave of irritation flare. He couldn’t feel angry with Charlotte and Laura. They were both sweet and fussed over him like mother hens, but Seth and Will were another story.

“These girls are tired of seeing you walk around with a scowl on your face,” Will said. “They think they have just the remedy.”

Nick gritted his teeth. “I’m not paying some stranger to pick out a wife for me. The next go-round, I’m going to pick her out myself.”

“You’d better hurry,” Seth said. “Because Laura and Charlotte are both fixing to do their own matchmaking.”

Nick shook his head and got to his feet. “All I wanted was a catnap before we got back to work. Then the four of you have to come pester me.”

“Come for dinner, Nick,” Charlotte called. “Soon.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said over his shoulder. “But I’m not talking about any fool letter to some woman in Boston.”

But Charlotte and Laura wouldn’t be deterred. Over the next few days, they tried time and again to coax an agreement from Nick. He kept himself busy. When one of Will or Seth’s men rode over with a note from Charlotte or Laura, Nick dismissed them with an excuse of being too busy to accept a dinner invitation.

Almost two weeks later, the women arrived on the buckboard with what could only be a demand that he come for Sunday lunch, in a week’s time. They had arranged for two lovely ladies to join them. If Nick didn’t fancy one or the other, they were determined to write for a bride for him.

Unable to ignore them any longer, and perfectly clear they would not be put off, Nick agreed to lunch. The date was ten days away. Maybe he’d get lucky and it would get cancelled for some reason. Like a tornado. Maybe a flood or some other Biblical plague. Anything to keep him from having to discuss mail-order anything.