Mud Creek

Mud Creek by Cheryl Holt

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Authors: Cheryl Holt
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first courteous exchange between them.
    “What happened to him?” Violet inquired.
    “He was thrown from a horse.”
    “How awful.” She seemed stunned. They were silent, then Violet asked, “If I’m not marrying Arthur, what is the plan for me?”
    “You’ll come to the ranch with us,” Albert hastily said, “as we intended.”
    Violet nodded. “Yes, I suppose I could do that.”
    At Violet’s ready approval of the situation, Helen was relieved again. Later on, she imagined there would be protests and teeth-gnashing from her sister, but what option was there but to continue?
    It wasn’t as if she could return to the train in Prairie City.
    They were lucky that Albert was still willing to shelter her—even without Arthur to shoulder the responsibility. Albert was assuming Violet as his own burden, so that Helen would be happy, and she had to remember to be grateful. She had to remember to appreciate his many kindnesses.
    But just then, with the wind blowing and the vast prairie sky pressing down, she couldn’t recollect why she’d chosen Albert to be her savior. In the morning, after she’d rested and had a chance to get her bearings, she’d recall her purpose.
    Until then, she’d count her blessings and carry on as best she could.
    *    *    *    *
    “Hello, cowboy.”
    “Hello, Miss Pendleton.”
    “Fancy meeting you here.”
    Violet was up on a grassy hill, staring down at the stream Albert had said was Mud Creek. It was a measly excuse for a river, brown and thick, the current sluggish. Apparently, it led to the ranch so they were trudging along its banks.
    James Blaylock, the handsome fellow from outside the mercantile in Prairie City, was camped down by the creek’s edge. The land was so empty that she couldn’t believe she’d encountered another human being.
    Albert’s wagon was a few hundred yards behind her, parked for the night. The moment he’d picked the spot, she’d leapt down and run off. She didn’t care what Albert or Helen thought of her behavior. They didn’t own her, and she wasn’t about to waste any energy gathering firewood or hauling water.
    She flashed her sassiest smile at Blaylock and maneuvered her way down to him. As she stumbled over the rocks and ruts, he didn’t leap up to assist her, which was annoying.
    Men liked looking at her. Men liked being close to her. It was an intriguing fact she’d learned at an early age, but he was immune to her charms.
    He watched her approach, his expression wary and irked.
    The sun had dropped behind the horizon, but the June twilight lingered.
    The lengthy days invigorated Violet to an almost insane degree. They made her want to sing and dance and twirl in circles until she was dizzy with laughter.
    They had been on the road for four days, with Albert claiming they’d reach the ranch by the following evening. The tedious hours in the wagon were the most boring she’d ever endured. If she had to spend one more minute, listening to Albert’s pompous lectures, she might start screaming and never stop.
    “Why are you out here all by yourself?” she asked.
    She hesitated, expecting an invitation to sit, but when it wasn’t voiced, she plunked down anyway.
    “I’m heading home, same as you,” he replied.
    “Do you live near the Jones family?”
    “The next place to the south is mine.”
    “So we’ll be neighbors?”
    “It appears we will be.”
    She grinned. It was the first ray of hope that had shined on her since her arrival. Well, the second ray. The first had been the blessed news of Arthur’s death.
    He’d fallen off a horse! It was precisely the type of mediocre end she’d have predicted for him.
    Blaylock was enjoying a hot supper—fish he’d caught in the river and some sort of tuber that resembled a fried potato. Her mouth watered. With Albert, it had been beans and biscuits, morning, noon, and night. She was starved for some real food.
    “Have you an extra bite to share?” she brazenly

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