Read Grace: Bride of Montana (American Mail-Order Bride 41) for Free Online

ears drooped.
    “Ah, now.” Frey lowered himself to one knee and called the dog over, fondling her head and ears, and receiving a friendly lick for his efforts. “Come on, girl.” He got to his feet and entered the house.
    As if sensing the coming changes, Gertie stuck close while he swept the floors and dusted the windowsills and what little furniture he had. The new bed in the guest room was made up with crisp sheets, plump down pillows, and thick woolen blankets. He wondered how his bride would feel about the lack of furniture in the house.
    Frey thought of the three important pieces he’d managed to obtain before Grace’s arrival—a sofa, the extra bed, and a surprise he’d bought for her locked in another room—and his lips curled in a smile. I’ll unlock that door when the time is right.
    After he’d finished and his home looked as presentable as possible, he and Gertie hurried to the bathhouse. The Woods, the owners of the business, were fond of dogs and didn’t mind her tagging along. In fact, Gertie was welcome in most places in Sweetwater Springs, including Hardy’s Saloon. Frey had never tried to bring her inside the mercantile, though. He could only imagine how the owners would react. Mrs. Cobb would probably take after Gertie with a broom—take after both of them with her broom, which is why he’d left the dog behind yesterday when he’d gone to the store to buy Grace a simple gold band.
    Just as he was wandering home, his hair loose and damp and his beard and mustache closely trimmed, he saw the Flanigan’s wagon, with Seth driving, pull into his driveway. Three-year-old Anna was perched between her parents, clutching a rag doll. Baby George sat on his mother’s lap.
    With a happy bark, Gertie raced to meet them.
    Frey moved toward Mrs. Flanigan’s side, noting the crates and baskets packed in the back, and glanced from her to the laden wagon. “Don’t tell me you folks are thinking of moving in? I wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble to build you a nice house, and my own would be finished by now.”
    She shook a finger at him. “I’m very familiar with the state of a bachelor’s home. I thought to spare your bride the shock, although we’ll have to tell her right away what we’ve lent you, so Grace doesn’t think everything belongs to this household.”
    “I know I’m missing some furniture and all, but those boxes don’t look big enough….”
    She wrinkled her nose at him. “Furnishings are up to you to provide. We brought dinner. A lace tablecloth. China settings and silverware, some pots and pans, and serving pieces.”
    Frey leaned over the side of the wagon and peered into a slatted crate.
    A beady black eye glared back.
    “Are you lending me chickens ?”
    Mrs. Flanigan laughed. “No. That’s our wedding gift to you both. There are five—a rooster so you have dinner for next Sunday and four hens. And, I have a bag in there somewhere with seed packets for your garden.”
    “Generous gifts.” Frey was touched by her thoughtfulness. “I’m sure Grace will appreciate them.”
    Seth, carrying Anna, came around the front of the horses. “Don’t forget all that extra food you brought along,” he said to his wife before leaning toward Frey. “Just as well,” he pretended to whisper. “The cellar in the old place and the new home are overflowing with food. We couldn’t eat it all if we tried. I had to add extra reinforcement to the shelves for fear they’d collapse under the weight of all those jars.”
    Mrs. Flanigan lifted her chin. “If we are blessed by nature’s bounty, I aim to take advantage of every bit. I’ll never forget the long winter of ’86, the year of our marriage.”
    Frey doubted anyone who’d lived through that horrific winter would forget.
    “Thank goodness that year I’d arrived here early enough to plant a garden and went berry picking with Lina and Darcy,” she said, referencing her two friends from the Mail-Order Brides of the West