Free Sixteen Brides by Stephanie Grace Whitson Page B

but there is plenty besides grass and sky out here.” When Ella looked his way, the stranger set his coffee mug down and took his hat off. He dipped his head in a half bow. “Jeb Cooper’s my name. I just bought a pre-emption. Good house, spring-fed watering hole, rich land. If a man—or a woman—has time and determination, Dawson County has a lot to offer.”
    Mama thanked him “for filling that doorway at just the right time.”
    “Glad to be of help.” Cooper put his hat back on and returned to lounging in the doorway.
    One of the four sisters spoke up to ask Mr. Drake if he’d ever done anything like this before. When he said yes, she glanced at her siblings, who nodded back. “And did those ladies marry right away?”
    “Some did. Yes.”
    Another sister asked, “And were they . . . satisfied . . . with their decision? Are they still in the area?”
    Ella could hardly believe her ears. Were they actually thinking of going on to Cayote? Entertaining the idea of instant marriages? She had her answer when one of them wondered aloud if the “tall man in the plaid shirt” she’d seen today would be at the dance in Cayote.
    “I’m just trying to be practical,” she said, and glanced around the table with a little shrug.
    “You don’t have to explain yourself,” another woman said. “Not all of us came to supper wanting to tar and feather Mr. Drake. At least not until after we see what Cayote has to offer.”
    Ella shook her head. Mama patted her arm, then leaned close to whisper, “You cannot make the decision for them, Ella. They are grown women.”
    Mama was right, of course. The same freedom that allowed her to come west allowed fools to follow the likes of Hamilton Drake, even after they had learned of his questionable integrity. It was none of her affair. She grabbed a biscuit and took a bite. But then Mr. Drake actually thanked Ruth and Caroline for “clearing the air,” and Ella decided that she had had enough.
    Standing up, she blurted out, “I want my things from the train. Mama and I will not be going on to Cayote.” Ella glanced at Mrs. Haywood. “We can stay at the Immigrant House?”
    Mrs. Haywood nodded. “Delighted to have you. Plum Grove is poised to become the county seat. There’s plenty of homestead land near town—and in our case ‘near’ really does mean ‘near.’ ” She directed her next comments to the rest of the ladies. “If anyone is interested in a job, I’m looking to hire cooks for the dining hall and at least two ladies—or a married couple—to move in over at the Immigrant House and keep things running there. Plum Grove is going to be growing fast. Stay here. Grow with us.”
    Jeb Cooper spoke up then. “I’ll be happy to help anyone who decides to stay with their freight.” He smiled at Sally. “I’m a terrible dancer, so you don’t have to worry I’ll come to collect on Friday.”
    Sally smiled. “Guess we’ll pay you with fresh eggs, then.”
    “Those of us staying in Plum Grove tonight should probably get to the station and get our things,” Ella said. Mrs. Haywood promised to meet them at the Immigrant House and help them get settled. Ella couldn’t believe that in addition to herself and Mama and Sally, only five other ladies joined them. Ruth Dow. Caroline Jamison. Hettie Raines. Mavis Morris. Helen Smith. That was all. Mr. Drake would still arrive in Cayote with eight “prospective brides.” The idea made her skin crawl.

CHAPTER
SIX
    And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not;
I will lead them in paths that they have not known. . . .
    ISAIAH 42:16
    E lla woke in the night shivering. Nothing was visible through the curtainless windows on the far wall of the women’s dormitory. Mama slept on the next cot, her white hair surrounding her head like a halo. Presently the “angel” sat up and, pulling her comforter around her, trundled over to the window, where she stood transfixed. When Ella went to her side and looked out,