by India Heath
Morris County, Kansas, 1870
"There you are. I've been looking all over for you. What are you doing hiding in the barn? Ma's on the warpath 'cos there's a pile of potatoes that need peeling for supper."
Eden Meyer's green eyes never once left the page of the letter she was studying. "It's your turn to help Ma with supper," she told her twin sister. "I did it last night. And I made breakfast this morning too."
Sierra Meyer pulled a weary face. "Yeah I know, but you're so much better at cooking than I am. Can't you do it?" Still Eden didn't look up and Sierra's pretty face took on an exasperated pout. "What are you reading anyway, Sis?"
Eden finally glanced up into an identical pair of cat-like green eyes. Appearance wise they were so similar that no one, except their parents, could tell them apart. Both were blessed with beautiful long black hair, inherited from their Mexican mother, along with her dazzling smile. The jade green eyes were a gift from their father, a German immigrant who had settled in Kansas some twenty-five years previously.
"It's another letter from Beau Rivers."
Sierra's pout became a teasing grin. "That's the second letter you've had from him this month. He must be really smitten with you."
Eden sighed. "He is. Look, he sent me the money for the journey out there. He wants me to go join him in Montana as soon as possible."
Sierra plonked herself down on the bale of hay, beside her twin and whipped the letter from her hand. "Oh my Lord," she declared, half in envy and half in disgust. "He really wants to marry you! Even though you ain't never even met? What a sap head."
Eden reclaimed her letter. "It's called taking a mail order bride and a lot of men are getting wives that way nowadays. Advertising for a wife does not make him a sap head. On the contrary, he seems like a fine, upstanding man to me. He's handsome too."
"How do you know?"
Eden dimpled a little smile and fished into her skirt pocket. "He sent me a likeness," she said, pulling out a small photograph and passing it to Sierra.
Sierra studied the grainy black and white print. Something in her tummy gave a tiny flutter just looking at the chisel-faced stranger staring back at her with serious eyes. To mask her response she shrugged. "I guess he ain't all that ugly."
"He's gorgeous," Eden insisted.
"So how come you're not happy?"
Eden's eyes didn't quite meet Sierra's intuitive gaze. "What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean, Eden Meyer. All you ever wanted was for some good lookin' guy to come sweep you off your feet. Yet here you are, moping in the barn instead of dancing round for joy. Something ain't right." Sierra took her sister's hand. "You wanna tell me what's up?"
"Brett Sutherby."
Sierra screwed up her snub nose. "Brett Sutherby? You mean the new town preacher? What's he got to do with anything?"
Eden cast aside the letter and stood up in frustration. "I like him, Sierra. A lot. And he likes me too. We talk after choir practice all the time. He's even invited me to go for a picnic with him after church on Sunday."
Sierra laughed. Despite her twins obvious distress she couldn't help but be amused. "Let me get this straight. You've got two men trying to court you at the same time?"
"It's not funny, Sierra. What am I gonna do? Which one do I choose?"
Sierra stood too and took her sister by the shoulders. "Which one do you wanna choose?"
Eden nibbled her lower lip thoughtfully. "Well I kinda already agreed to marry Beau Rivers. That's why he sent me the fare to Montana."
"But?"
Eden's lovely face broke into a dreamy smile. "But when Brett looks at me I get goosebumps all over and this strange feeling inside me, like I'm gonna burst."
"Well it seems to me you've already made up your mind." Sierra's dark eyebrow arched. "Reverend Sutherby though? Are you sure, Sis? He must be forty years old at least."
"That doesn't make him ancient," Eden argued. "He's mature and wise and I reckon he'll take good care of me. Besides," she reasoned, "he lives right here in Diamond Springs. If I marry him I can stay close to you, Ma and Papa. Montana is so very far away."
A feminine voice called from the doorway of the barn. "Sierra? Eden? Are you in here?"
"We're here, Ma," Sierra called.
"What are you both doing? I need help with supper."
Sierra grinned mischievously. "Eden said she'd help with the potatoes, Ma."
Eden gasped at her twin's blatant lie but the little minx was unrepentant. "You want me to help get you off the hook with Beau Rivers, right?" she whispered. "I reckon that must be worth peeling a few potatoes, at least."
Eden sighed. "Fine. I'll go peel the potatoes."
Sierra giggled and kissed her sister's cheek. "I knew you'd see it my way in the end."
"Don't I always," Eden sighed, following her mother out of the barn and across to their small farm house.
Ralf Meyer had built the house in 1862, following Abraham Lincoln's Homestead Act, allowing pioneers out west the right to claim 160 acres of free land. Since then they had endured drought, civil war and Indian attacks but thanks to Ralf's hard work and shear bloody minded determination the small wheat farm had prospered.
Sierra sat back down on the hay bale and picked up her sister's letter. Beau Rivers' handwriting was bold and assertive, as strong as the man in the photo appeared to be himself. Judging by his grammar and use of language, he was well educated too. Given the choice between a dull old preacher and the handsome Montana rancher, Sierra knew who she would choose. That was of course, if she was looking for a husband. Which she wasn't. At twenty-two she was still too busy enjoying life to become just another man's chattel.
Indeed, one of her favourite pastimes was horse riding, and after carefully pocketing Beau's letter and photograph, she saddled Pepper the family horse and headed out to find her father in the lower field.
"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" Ralf smiled as Sierra sprang down and gave her father a hug. A tall man with greying fair hair, his lilting German accent always soothed and delighted Sierra.
"Do I need a reason to come and see my papa?"
Ralf's mouth twisted sardonically. "So it has nothing to do with escaping your chores?"
Sierra blushed slightly but shook her head. "Eden volunteered to help Ma with supper. I don't have any chores."
"Hmm," Ralf drawled. "If you weren't identical to your sister I would think perhaps the stork had left us a foundling. I do not understand how I could have one daughter who is so good and one who is a total brat."
"I'm not a brat, Papa. I just hate cooking is all."
Ralf chuckled. "And doing the laundry and feeding the chickens and beating the rugs."
Sierra giggled, totally unabashed. "Eden is the little home-maker. She wants nothing more than to be a wife and mother. Me? I like to be outdoors and free."
"You are spoilt, Liebchen," Ralf announced. "I should have put you across my knee when you were growing up and spanked your bottom occasionally. Then perhaps you might be more obedient and hard working."
Sierra merely grinned at her father's regretful tone. "Well it's too late now, Papa. I'm a grown woman and much too big to have my bottom smacked."
Ralf shrugged. "By me perhaps, but what your future husband will make of your sassy attitude I don't know. You may well find yourself suffering a few good hidings before long, my girl."
"Only if I get married, Papa, which is not something I'm planning to do."
Ralf frowned, his steady gaze sweeping across his daughter's beautiful face. "Your mother and I have been talking about that. Your sister is ready to settle down and we think it's high time you were married too."
Sierra grimaced. "I don't want to get married, Papa."
"But you are twenty-two years old. Your mother married me at eighteen. It is time, Liebchen, for you to finally become a woman and stop relying on us."
Sierra felt tears sting her eyes. "You don't want me around any more, Papa?"
Ralf Meyer sighed and put down his hoe. "Now you know that is not the case. Your mother and I love you very much. Too much to see you waste your life alone. You are beautiful, Sierra and brimming over with passion and energy. You will make some lucky man a wonderful wife."
She blinked away the tears as her arms folded in sulky defence. "You just said I'm spoilt."
Ralf chuckled. "And so you are, my darling child, but it is nothing a good strong man cannot spank out of you. All you need is a firm hand."
"Which I can get from you," she implored, clutching her father's calloused hand. "I'll start doing my share of the chores, Papa. I'll be good I promise. Just please let me stay on the farm."
"Sierra," Ralf growled, "you must face facts. You are an adult and you need a family of your own. Your mother has been looking for eligible suitors and she thinks that George Plank would make you a fine husband."
Sierra was aghast. "George Plank? The goat herder's son? Absolutely not!" She visibly shuddered. "Papa, he is a pathetic halfwit who can barely string a sentence together and has a revolting habit of picking his nose. I would rather die than marry him," she declared dramatically. "Would you really stand by and watch me become Mrs Plank?"
Ralf's mouth twitched with ill suppressed humour. Both his lovely daughters were a joy to him but Sierra, with her vivacity and spirit, was his shining star. "I will talk to your mother. Perhaps we can come up with another possible suitor for you."
Sierra made a sound of disgust and thrust her hands in her skirt pocket. "If I am being forced into wedlock, Papa, at least allow me to choose my own husband."
"Do you have someone in mind, Liebchen?"
Her fingers grazed the letter and photograph of Beau Rivers and she tilted her head to one side. "Maybe," she replied, her mind racing with possibilities. "Maybe, Papa."
"Sierra? Are you awake?"
Sierra groaned and turned over to face Eden. "Well I am now," she whispered in the darkness.
"I can't sleep," Eden sighed. "Half of me is excited about the picnic with Brett tomorrow and the other half is worried about letting Beau Rivers down."
Sierra propped her head up on her hand and looked at her twin. "Why are you worried about the Montana rancher? You've never even met him."
"That doesn't mean I don't feel guilty about backing out of our agreement. He's sent me money. He's expecting me to marry him." Eden leant across the small gap between their beds and clutched Sierra's arm. "You will help me write an apology letter to him, won't you?"
"What if I tell you that you don't have to let him down?"
Eden shook her head. "I don't know what you mean."
"Well, you can marry them both."
"Sierra, you're talking in riddles. Have you been sneaking sips of papa's rye whiskey again?"
Sierra rolled her eyes and grinned. "No, silly. It's obvious, isn't it? You marry the preacher and I'll marry the rancher. That way you don't have to disappoint either of them."
Eden sat up and swung her legs off the bed. Even in the darkness her confusion was obvious. "You want to marry Beau Rivers?"
"Not particularly," Sierra admitted dryly. "But apparently Ma and Papa think I'm practically an old maid and are determined to marry me off to the first cowpoke or goat herder who'll have me."
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