Free Mud Creek by Cheryl Holt

Albert said.
    “Will Violet and I live there with you?”
    “Yes.”
    “But we’re not married yet. Do you think we should?”
    “You’re not in New York anymore, Helen. You have to make allowances.”
    “I realize that, but shouldn’t we wait until the wedding? What will the neighbors say?”
    “They won’t bat an eye; they understand about the traveling preacher. It’s a very common problem.”
    He went to the wagon, but she didn’t move. It was all happening too fast, and she didn’t care how he viewed the situation. Whether she was in New York or on the Dakota prairie, some things were appropriate and some things weren’t.
    They shouldn’t share accommodations until they were married.
    He noticed she wasn’t following him, and he whipped around.
    “What now?” he asked.
    “I’m not sure about this. It doesn’t seem proper.”
    “Helen”—he sighed dramatically—“there’s no space with Ma and Pa. They can’t squeeze in anybody else. The Fourth of July is in a few weeks. We’ll be wed so soon that you won’t even remember a time when we weren’t.”
    Helen dithered, considering, wanting to refuse, but not knowing how. She peered down the rutted track to her new home. Violet was already there and waving for Helen to join her.
    “All right.” She forced another smile. “Show it to me.”
    “That’s the spirit.” He smiled in return. “I built it just for you.”
    “I’m grateful.”
    He hefted her into the wagon, and as she settled herself, she caught a glimpse of his expression. He was smug, as if he was gloating, as if he might shout, you should be grateful! Luckily, if he was preening with such an insufferable thought, he didn’t voice it aloud.
    Aware that their lengthy journey was over, the horses trotted off with no coaxing. Much too quickly, they rattled to a halt next to Violet.
    “Am I living with Walt and Florence,” she inquired, “or here with you?”
    “Here,” Albert said.
    “It’s pretty small. Is there room for three?”
    “It’s bigger than it looks,” he insisted, but Helen didn’t imagine that was true.
    It was a shack really, with a sloping roof that probably leaked when it rained. A crooked chimney stuck out at the rear. There was a window by the door, but it had no curtain covering it.
    But then, she reminded herself, Albert is a bachelor . He would have left it for her to arrange, and that’s exactly what she’d do. She’d fix it to her liking.
    She flashed Violet a warning glance, urging caution, then she climbed down. Albert jumped down, too, and dropped their bags in the dirt. Then he clambered up onto the seat and picked up the reins.
    “Where are you going?” Helen asked.
    “While you unpack, I’ll unhitch the horses and unload the wagon. You and Violet can share the bed for now. I’ll sleep on the floor in the front room.”
    “But…but…” Violet stammered, “won’t you help us?”
    “You’d best learn fast, Violet,” he replied. “You’re on a ranch, and you have to pitch in. I expect you can unpack your bag without my holding your hand.”
    “I expect I can, too,” she crossly responded.
    “When I’m done with the wagon,” he added, “I’ll stop by and we’ll go over to Ma’s to cook supper. She’s too distracted to finish on her own.”
    Violet was horrified. “We have to cook supper for your whole family?”
    “Cook or starve.”
    “I don’t know how to cook,” Violet protested.
    “Looks like it’s starve then,” he snottily retorted, and he clicked the reins and rumbled away.
    She and Helen watched until he was out of earshot, then Violet seethed, “I hate him.”
    “No, you don’t.”
    Violet whirled to Helen and tightly gripped her hands. “Don’t marry him, Helen. Don’t let’s stay.”
    “Don’t stay ?” Helen scoffed. “Where on earth would we go? How would we get there?”
    Violet was frantic, like a rabbit trapped in a snare. “Let’s grab our bags and head out to the road. Someone