Mail Order Melody (Chapman Mail Order Brides by Kate Whitsby

Author:Kate Whitsby
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mail order brides western, mail order bride old west romance, mail order bride romance story, mail order brides western romance, mail oder brides of the west
Publisher: Gold Crown

Chapter Ten

They drank their soup and sat on the bed with their legs folded underneath them. Long passages of idle time marked this dreamy life, especially in the evenings before they went to sleep. They came into their den at sunset to shelter from the cold, but there was nothing else to do for a couple of hours or more before they went to bed.

Paul yawned, but he didn’t feel sleepy. He’d slept more in the last week than he’s ever slept in his life. He looked up and saw Melody staring at him. “What are you thinking about?” She smiled and shook her head. “Not that again.”

“You don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “so we won’t.”

“I think I can do some hunting,” he suggested. “There must be animals around I can hunt for food.”

“Hunt?” Melody repeated. “With what?”

“Well,” he replied, “I have a knife. I might be able to improvise something.”

He could tell from her expression she thought the idea was daft. He thought it was pretty daft himself, but he had to come up with some alternative to her plan to walk home.

“I know it’s a long shot,” he admitted. “but it might work. You killed that sheep with a knife.”

“Only because it came right up to me,” she reminded him. “I think it must have been a tame sheep and it was looking for its people after the storm. I never would have killed it otherwise, and we would be dead now.”

“I think I should be able to bring in something,” Paul insisted. “I’ll give it a try anyway.”

She said nothing. Her silence worked on his nerves more than any argument.

“Tell me more about your life in Holland,” he told her. “I want to know everything about you. What brought you here?”

“You don’t want to hear about Holland,” she replied. “It’s a boring little country compared to Idaho.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “I don’t want to hear about Holland. I want to hear about you. I enjoyed hearing about you driving the cows to market. Tell me more about that.”

“I never drove cows to market,” Melody told him. “My father had a farm with goats and sheep. I told you that, and we didn’t take them to the market. We took milk and cheese and wool to the market. Our animals never left the farm except to graze along the side of the road.”

“Did you walk to the market?” Paul asked.

“Yes,” Melody replied.

“How far was it?” he asked.

Melody did a quick mental calculation. “About a mile, I would say.”

Paul laughed out loud. “No wonder you walked.”

“That was our village market,” Melody explained. “Twice a year, we went to the big market in the larger town to buy cloth and things like that.”

“Did you carry the milk to the market in buckets?” Paul asked.

“My father took the milk in the wagon,” Melody told him. “We took milk to market three days out of the week. The other days, I took cheese and hand spun yarn. And meat.”

“And did you have to sit there until someone came and bought the milk?” Paul asked.

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