“Thank you. I hope we can keep in contact after all this.”
“We will. My sister and I live in Cheyenne, so we aren’t all that far away.”
“I thought you worked for Mrs. Crenshaw?”
“No, I just help out sometimes when she’s near Cheyenne. My sister has known her for years. Her husband was a relative of Mr. Crenshaw.”
“What do you do when you aren’t working for Mrs. Crenshaw?”
“I’m a retired sheriff, and my sister was a schoolteacher, so we live a comfortable, yet quiet, existence together.
“You never married.”
“No, I couldn’t find the right woman. Being a sheriff made it hard.”
What a waste of a decent, upright man, Jasmine thought. Rusty was the last link she had to her father now, and she would treasure it. What a strange thing fate was. If only they had met under better circumstances.
“If this marriage doesn’t work out,” Rusty said. “Come and stay with us. I think it will, though. Zane McIvor will make you a good husband. He knows how to look after himself, too. I checked him out with the sheriff.”
“You did?”
“Yes, he’s a friend of mine. Well, he was once my deputy. Anyway, he says Zane is a decent man, which is good enough for me.”
Butterflies fought amongst themselves inside Jasmine’s stomach as nervous anticipation built up. Finally, when she was at the stage of going back upstairs, Zane dashed in.
“I’m so sorry for being late. A buckboard ran off the road and the wheel got wedged between two rocks. I had to ride to a nearby ranch for help, then assisted the rancher with getting it back on the road. The man driving it was drunk and abusive. I would never have helped him under those conditions, except he had a woman and a couple of kids with him.”
“Oh, well, better late than never,” Rusty said. “It doesn’t always pay to be chivalrous.”
“You sure are right in this case. Where’s Mrs. Crenshaw?”
“She’s still not well.” Rusty shook his head. “The doctor in Cheyenne told her to rest, yet she was determined to come here and tell you face to face how sorry she was.”
“Yeah, well, I realize it wasn’t her fault.” Zane smiled at Jasmine. “I wouldn’t have met this lovely young lady had it not happened.”
“She felt responsible for what happened to you,” Mrs. Donaldson said. “Are we going to get this marrying done or what?”
Zane linked arms with Jasmine as they left the hotel. Fortunately, the church was less than a five-minute walk away. She was starting to worry about what would happen if the preacher had decided they were not coming and had taken himself off somewhere else.
Rusty knocked on the door of the church and Jasmine could have collapsed with relief when a young man wearing a clerical collar answered.
“Sorry we’re late, I got delayed,” Zane said, briefly explaining what had happened.
“That would be Horrie James, spends half his time drunk. I pity his poor wife. I’m Preacher Gibson. Please, come inside.”
The men removed their hats and let the women precede them into the church, which was small. The pews were made of some light-colored wood, perhaps pine, Jasmine thought. The pulpit and baptismal font were a couple of shades darker. A table was covered with a white cloth and an open bible rested on a gold stand. Two matching candlesticks stood on either side.
The preacher lit the candles, and as Jasmine turned her head, she caught the strangest expression on Mrs. Donaldson’s face. Was it dislike? Envy? Stop it, she scolded herself. You’re letting your overwrought imagination run away with you.
She steadied herself by thinking how much better it was to marry a decent man like Zane in a simple little church, than put up with the pomp and ceremony of the wedding Esmeralda would have organized for her and Cedric.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The wedding ceremony was short and simple. When Rusty handed over the ring to Zane, his hand was steady, although Zane’s had a slight tremor to it.
After the preacher blessed the ring, Zane slipped it on Jasmine’s finger. When the preacher pronounced them to be man and wife in the eyes of the law and the church, he said, “You may now kiss your bride.”
Zane hesitated for a moment before leaning into her and brushing his lips against hers. Her shocked intake of breath caused him to grin. He stepped back and she felt somehow bereft. How idiotic. This was a marriage in name only so she could be safe from Esmeralda, and he got to keep his ranch. It was what he wanted. She was beginning to wonder whether it was what she now wanted.
The preacher shook hands with all of them. “I hope to see you both at Sunday service, Mr. and Mrs. McIvor.”
“You will,” Jasmine said. She had always enjoyed attending church with her father, a man who sincerely loved God, not like Cedric and Esmeralda, who went to church purely and simply for show. Hypocrites that they were.
They all traipsed out into the sunlight.
“Will we go to the diner to celebrate?” Rusty asked.
“I need to get back to Mrs. Crenshaw,” Mrs. Donaldson said. “You know she’s not well and might need me.”
“Thanks, but no. I want to get back to the ranch. I’ve got a lot of work to do before the Land Agent comes.”
“Okay, I’ll call in and see the sheriff and share lunch with him. Good luck.” Rusty shook Zane’s hand. “Make sure you take good care of Jasmine.”
“I will.”
“Goodbye, Rusty.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for everything. You, too, Mrs. Donaldson.”
The woman nodded before turning away.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into her,” Rusty said.
“Probably worried about Mrs. Crenshaw. Give the good lady my regards, and tell her I hope she feels better soon,” Zane said.
“Make sure you keep in touch with me now we’ve met, Rusty,” Jasmine said.
“I will, my dear, that’s a promise.”
The couple walked off one way, Jasmine and Zane went in the opposite direction. “I left the buckboard at the livery stable; it’s on our way out of town. Rusty told me he gave the owner your bag, too.”
“That’s good, I was wondering where it was. Do you have much food at the ranch?”
“Food?”
“Yes, the stuff you eat.”
He grinned. “Tins of beans, beef and smoked ham. I have my own smokehouse.”
“That’s all?”
“I’ve got chickens and a house cow.”
“What about flour and sugar, molasses?”
He shook his head.
“If you expect me to cook for you, I do need a few basics.”
“We can go to the mercantile and get it. This being married is all new to me.” He frowned.
“And me, too. I don’t want you to think I’m a nagging wife, but we do need things, such as herbs and spices, as well.”
“Order what you think we need. I do have some money, I’m not dirt poor.”
They entered the mercantile and the woman behind the counter smiled at her. “Good morning, my dear. Howdy, Zane.”
“Howdy, Olive. Meet my wife, Jasmine who she would like to buy a few supplies. Could you put them on my account? I’ll pay it at the end of the month.”
“That’s fine. Next time you come in we’ll have the usual order of ham.”
“Okay. I supply Olive with smoked ham. Buy what you want, Jasmine, while I collect the buckboard and bring it out to the side so we can load up more easily.”
After he left, Olive shook her head. “They are clueless, some of these young men. They would starve to death if not for us women.”
“This is all new to me, Olive. I need a couple of ten pound bags of flour, a five pound bag of sugar.” She hesitated to spend much of Zane’s money, but she had never skimped on food. “Salt.”
“He would have plenty of salt, he cures his own meat.”
“I didn’t know. A tin of molasses and I might get a few herbs and spices. I pla
n on starting a herb garden,” she said. “Maybe a flower garden, as well.”
“You like flowers?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I can give you some potted plants. No charge.”
“I couldn’t take them for nothing.” Even as Jasmine protested, she wondered whether she should accept a couple, at least.
“No charge, dear. I grow them from cuttings from my own garden. I give them away to anyone who wants them.”
“That’s kind of you.”
“It’s a hobby for me. I keep a few pots out the back of the store in case anyone wants them.”
They stacked all the purchases on the counter ready for Zane, and Jasmine waited while Olive went out the back of the store. She returned with a box full of potted plants. The lavender bushes she instantly recognized, also a couple of rose bushes, as for the others, she would have to inspect them more closely to work out what they were.
“Thank you, I didn’t expect so many.”
“This is only a fraction of what I’ve got. Next time you come in I’ll give you more.”
“Thank you so much.”
Zane returned and his jaw dropped at seeing the pile of goods on the counter.
“I don’t think I was extravagant. If you think….”
“No, it’s okay, you just surprised me. What are those?” He pointed to the plants.
“Olive kindly gave me these flowers for the garden.”
“Garden! I don’t have a garden.”
“I want to start one.”
He gave a loud sigh of resignation. “If it’s what you want.”
Olive rolled her eyes. “Men,” she mouthed the word behind his back, causing Jasmine to laugh.
It took three trips for Zane to take all the supplies out to the buckboard. “You bought enough stuff to last six months by the looks of it.” He lifted her up on to the seat before leaping up beside her.
He clicked his tongue and flapped the reins to get the two horses moving.
“How long will it take to get to your ranch?”
“A couple of hours. I usually take it easy. I don’t like pushing the horses unless I have to.”
She wondered whether he was always so vague when questioned. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-four.” It was like pulling teeth trying to get information out of him. She gave up the effort and stared at the passing countryside. It was a mixture of pasture, trees, and brooding mountains.
Time passed; she had no idea how much. Would Zane’s ranch be far enough away from St. Louis to keep her safe? Polly Wilson, the name she had taken, her dowdy dress, surely it was a good enough disguise to throw any would-be pursuer off her trail. She suddenly wondered if the brewery was still operating. Except for the workers who would lose their jobs, she cared little about it.
She would not have minded being around to see Esmeralda fall from St. Louis society. She recalled her father saying that one day she would end up back in the gutter where she came from, only she was too young to understand exactly what he had meant.
“We’re nearly there.” Zane’s voice broke into her thoughts.
They turned off the road and drove through a wooden archway with a large set of antlers nailed to the top. “The house is a mile in from the road,” he said.
The sloping hillside was heavily treed, although she could see by the stumps where trees had been cut down. At least it thinned them out a little. The land looked wild and rather untamed.
She spied a stone chimney sticking up from behind more trees, then a shingle roof. The house looked to be sandwiched between two hills.
“I cleared the land out the back first and fenced off a few sections.”
The cabin was built from split logs, with a high gable roof.
“There’s a large loft area,” he said. “Big enough for two bedrooms, not that I’ve got time to do anything about it now. I will eventually, though.”
There was no garden. Not even one solitary plant to be seen. Her heart dropped to her boots as he pulled the wagon up in the barren front yard. A porch ran across the front of the cabin.
He alighted and lifted her down. “What do you think?”
“It’s very rustic looking.”
He gave her a hard stare. “I guess it does need a woman’s touch.”
CHAPTER NINE
Jasmine stepped on to the porch of her new home, with Zane a couple of paces behind her. He leaned over her shoulder to push the door open. “Go in. Don’t be nervous.”
Nervous? She was a bundle of nerves. Dubiously, she stepped over the threshold.
One large, open-spaced kitchen and sitting room combined greeted her. It was sparsely furnished with a few shelves built above, and at the sides of a huge fireplace. Two shabby, brown leather armchairs and a chest of drawers made up the rest of the furniture in the sitting room.
The kitchen area had a stove, old pine dresser and a table with four wooden chairs. Pots and pans hung from a board over the stove.
Through a back window, she glimpsed an imposing barn built from the same material as the house. A door to one side of the sitting room obviously led to the bedroom.
Up in the loft space was a wide platform, which was accessed by a ladder. Obviously, this was where he planned to build his bedrooms. For now, storage was about all it would be suitable for.
“If you could get the fire going, I’ll bring everything in from the buckboard and attend to the horses.”
“All right.” She had no idea what she had envisaged, but this place was almost primitive. It was tidy, austere, and desperately needed a woman’s touch. There were no curtains on the windows.
Don’t be such a fool, she scolded herself. Living in a tumbledown shack would be preferable to staying in Cedric and Esmeralda’s cold, sinister mansion. It was up to her to pretty the place up a little. It was solidly built to withstand anything mother nature decided to throw at it. Taking off the pretty shawl to save it from getting dirty, she stepped into the kitchen area.
The stove was old and small. Fortunately it did have an oven and the fire had been built up, so it was an easy matter to light it.
A back door leading outside was sheltered from the elements by a low porch. She wondered how Zane had been able to get the massive roof beams up on his own.
The front door banged as he came inside. “I’ll put your bag in the bedroom. I’ve made myself a bed up in the loft.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I did. I put a mattress up there and a couple of blankets, so it will be fine. We agreed on a marriage in name only, and I plan on keeping my word.”
Zane glanced at Jasmine as he stood near the bedroom door. She sure was a pretty gal. He was regretting his marriage in name only stipulation, but would abide by it. He didn’t have to like it, though. Rusty had been right, if he could take the words back, he would do so in a flash.
She was not impressed with his house. He had always thought it okay. Being a man, he did not go for all the frippery women liked. Not that he knew much about women, having never had much to do with them.
At the orphanage where he had lived until he ran away when he was about twelve, the boys and gals were kept separated in two different buildings. The only time they saw each other was at church or school. They did not even eat together.
It was a strange place, on reflection. A couple of hardened old maids and dour, bullying bachelors ran it on behalf of some charitable trust. The children were fed, clothed and given basic education and religious instruction.
No tenderness or warmth ever entered their regimented existence. He and his friends, Dave and Billie, had scaled the ten-foot high wall one night and ran for their lives. They lived by their wits for a few years before finally joining the army together. War came and they had rejoiced at the chance of going into battle. Fools that they were. After two years of fighting together, his friends had been killed and he had been captured.
“Would you like me to make coffee?” Jasmine’s
question startled him.
“Yeah, sure, thanks.”
“Maybe you could show me around afterward.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” He suddenly wondered what she would think of the bedroom. He did have sheets on the bed. Olive, from the mercantile, had told him about a woman in town who was moving away and selling a lot of her household items, when he had first started writing to Betsy.
No woman will sleep in a bed without decent linen on it she had said. He had given her ten dollars to buy a few things she thought he would need. Some crockery to replace his tin plate and cup. A few pots, knives, forks and spoons, even a bowl or two.
Maybe he should have offered to buy a few clothes for Jasmine. One carpet bag would not hold much. He cursed the fact he was so clueless when it came to women. If he could prove to Jasmine he was a decent, honorable man, maybe she would want to become a proper wife to him.
It was not going to be easy living with such a pretty gal and remaining celibate. He had the same needs and desires as other men his age.
He dumped the bag in the bedroom and turned to get the stores from the buckboard. After he had brought everything in and placed it on the table, he said. “I’ll see to the horses and come back for coffee, then show you around outside.”
“Thank you.” She picked up the coffee pot, wondering what they could eat. Something quick and easy. Pancakes. Thank goodness Olive had suggested she buy butter. She had no idea whether Zane had a butter churn. Not that she had ever used one, but how hard could it be?
She found a bowl and a few items of crockery in the dresser. It only took a few minutes to whip up a batch of pancakes, flour and sugar mixed with water as she had no idea whether he had milk or not. Did he have a root cellar?
There was so much about her husband that was a mystery to her. The twin guns he wore on his slim hips indicated a man who could look after himself. She had also noticed a Winchester under the seat of the buckboard.
The first batch of pancakes were cooked by the time he returned via the back door.
“Mm, something smells good.”
“Pancakes. I thought they were quick and easy. Sit down. Do you want to spread molasses on them, I bought a tin.”
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