by Lily Reynard
As soon as the words left her mouth, a horrible thought struck her. Perhaps there were no men named Walter Edwards or Larkin Williams here, and Liza had been bamboozled.
To her immense relief, Mrs. Kottinger immediately exclaimed, "Oh! You're Miss Hunter?" She smiled radiantly. "Yes, I know Walt Edwards well, and he's spoken of you many times. Welcome to Twin Forks! And may I say how happy I am to make the acquaintance of another lady? There are so very few of us here."
She extended her gloved hand, and Sarah shook it. "I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance as well, Mrs. Kottinger. And thank you so much for the coffee and pie. They were both delicious."
"Please, call me Emma," the other woman said, dimples framing her warm smile. "We're quite informal out here on the frontier."
"Thank you…Emma," Sarah said, the knot in her middle loosening at last. Maybe everything will turn out all right, after all. "Won't you call me Sarah?”
Too late, she remembered that she was supposed to be Liza Hunter now. She added quickly, "It’s my middle name, and everyone calls me that instead of Elizabeth.”
Relief poured through her at the welcome news that not only was Walter Edwards known to Emma but he'd apparently told whole town that Liza was arriving as his mail-order bride.
I wonder if anyone knows that Liza intended to wed two men instead of the customary one-and-only?
The minister's wife bent to pull a document from a leather satchel that sat against one of the table legs.
"Here," she said, offering Sarah the document. "Before Walt arrives, I wanted to let you know that my husband Albert commissioned a legal agreement for all mail-order brides and their prospective grooms. Though your intended is a decent, hardworking man, Albert and I feel morally obliged that we not to release you into Walt's keeping until both of you sign this agreement. I want to confirm that you're not here under any kind of duress." Emma sighed. "I know that Albert would wish to welcome you to our little town as well, but he was called away just now to greet our town's new physician and to see to the mortal remains of a poor woman who went to her eternal rest on the train."
"Dr. Addison is settling in Twin Forks as well?" Sarah asked startled. She accepted the document with its neatly written lines.
Emma frowned. "Do you object to having a Negro lady doctor living here?"
"Oh no, not at all!" Sarah hastened to assure her new acquaintance. "Miss Franklin—the woman who died—was my seatmate. Dr. Addison was quite distraught when she couldn't save her. I've never met a female doctor before, but she seemed knowledgeable and caring." She bit her lip and decided to ask the obvious. "The people of Twin Forks won't mind having Dr. Addison as their physician?"
Emma shook her head, her smile fading. "You have no idea how desperately we need a doctor here. Dr. Addison is sure to receive a warm welcome." Her expression transmuted from melancholy to something fierce. "And if anyone refuses her services on the basis of her sex or race, then they're the purest kind of dunderhead!" She shook her head again, then gestured at the document. "Please take a moment to read that before you sign it."
Sarah bent her head and obediently scanned the lines. Her eyes widened when she reached the second paragraph, in which Mr. Walter Edwards, owner of the E&W Ranch and a resident of Twin Forks, promised to treat his new bride with all care and chivalry, to support her with all the resources at his disposal, and to never mistreat her.
In return, Miss Elizabeth Hunter of Huntersville, Missouri attested that she was entering this union of her own free will, not having been compelled by any third party. She promised to do her utmost to provide a warm and loving home for her husband and not to nag or try to change him.
Sarah couldn't believe it. Here she was, freshly landed among strangers and far from home, and yet the Reverend and Mrs. Kottinger were clearly worried about her welfare and stood ready to protect her!
If only Father had taken half this much care before he promised me to Clyde Burgess!
Gratitude flooded through her veins. She instantly decided that Emmaline Kottinger was the kindest, most wonderful person that she had ever met. I really hope that we can become friends.
"Yes, of course I'll sign this!" Sarah dug in her reticule for the expensive fountain pen that Father had given her for her last birthday, before his fortunes had declined so disastrously.
She placed the document copies on a clear corner of the refreshments table and only remembered at the last minute to sign them "Elizabeth Hunter" rather than "Sarah Franklin."
"I wanted to let you know that we hold dances at the Hotel Bede every Friday evening," Emma said, accepting the signed document. "I know you probably won’t be coming tonight, but I’ll be looking for you next week. You may find it a bit lonely out on Walt's ranch, with no other women around."
She looked up just Sarah capped her fountain pen and tucked it back into her bag. "Oh, and here's Walt at last, come to meet you!"
Excitement surged through Sarah's veins as she followed Emma's gaze, just in time to see a green, four-wheeled farm wagon drawn by a beautiful bay horse pull to a halt next to the station building. A man wearing a black cowboy hat jumped down from the driver's seat with a graceful motion.
His face lit up as he spotted the two women. He strode rapidly toward them.
As he approached, Sarah sneaked a look down at the photograph she still clutched in one hand and realized that the camera had entirely failed to capture Walter Edward's air of vitality and good cheer, his long fair hair, or his bright blue eyes. He was a tall, well-built man a couple of years her senior, with a wide chest and broad shoulders under his suit coat.
Her first reaction upon glimpsing him was admiration, mingled with relief that not only was he not a fraud, he was also very clearly one of the men in her photograph and not some aged or decrepit specimen, as she'd been half-fearing.
She couldn't help thinking, And if this is Walt Edwards, then Larkin Williams must be the tall, dark, and handsome one in the photograph. But where is he?
Adding to the mystery was why these two good-looking, well-to-do men would want or need to share a bride.
"Good morning, Mrs. K!" he greeted Emma in a deep, hearty voice, lifting his hat.
His gaze fastened on Sarah, and she felt a pleasant shock as their gazes met. "Miss Hunter, I presume?”
Her heart pounding, Sarah nodded. "Mr. Edwards? It's very nice to meet you at last." She held her breath. Will he believe I'm Liza? What on earth will I do if he calls me out as a fraud?
Up until this moment, she couldn’t be absolutely certain that Elizabeth hadn’t sent a photo of her own to her suitors. But from what her late friend had told her, her circumstances had been too desperately straitened to allow for luxuries such as photographs.
"Pleased to meet you. And please call me Walt." He stopped in front of her, and his gaze swept from her hat, down her travel-stained bodice and draped skirts and ended at the scuffed tips of her shoes peeking out from beneath the dusty hem. “Why, you described yourself as plain, but I declare that you’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on!”
He thinks I'm pretty? Even with my hair turned the color of Grandma Betty's parlor curtains? Sarah's cheeks heated under his open admiration as she tried to figure out how to respond to this unexpected compliment.
Before she could say anything, Walt continued, "Mrs. K, thanks for keeping my fiancée company." His gaze returned to Sarah. "Please accept my apologies for the delay in coming to meet you. Sheriff Plummer stopped me as I was driving up Main Street, wanting some additional information about an incident at the mine last week." He smiled apologetically.
"Those men who were shot?" Emma asked with a frown. "My husband mentioned that there was a fracas at one of the mines. I didn't realize it was yours."
"Yeah, we had a couple of claim jumpers try to move in, and there was bit of a dust-up when Larkin and I let 'em know that they were trespassing." His smile was charming and a bit wry, but Sarah noticed that he was wearing a revolver at h
is hip, just like in those penny dreadful novels that Father had enjoyed reading in the evenings.
He extended his hand, which was freckled and sinewy. "Miss Hunter? Can I show you to my carriage?"
She took it and felt a bolt of lightning pass through her, electrifying every nerve, as he smiled down at her.
"Please, call me Sarah," she said, dazed. She remembered an instant too late that she was supposed to be Liza now.
Chapter Four
"Sarah?" Walt sounded surprised. "I thought your name was Liza?"
Sarah repeated the falsehood she had told Emma. "Oh, it is! But everyone calls me by my middle name, Sarah. Except when I get into trouble," she added, her heart pounding.
She had never lied like this before. It was much more difficult than she had expected it would be, especially when Emma was so kind and Walter so very dashing. She felt awful, but driven by grim necessity, she plowed ahead. "Then it was 'Elizabeth Sarah Hunter, come into the living room. Now.'"
Hoping desperately that the kernel of truth embedded in that string of lies sounded convincing, she tried to summon a smile and finished with, "But coming to Twin Forks is a new start for me, so I don't mind at all if you'd rather call me Elizabeth or Liza."
To her immense relief, Walt chuckled. "Oh yeah, I always knew when I'd gotten my dad all riled up, because he'd yell for 'Walter John Edwards' to get his hind parts out to the barn." Then, still smiling, he cocked his head. "And say, not that I don't like your hair, Sarah, but why'd you dye it that particular color?" The corners of his eyes crinkled with good humor. "Afraid I wouldn't be able to spot you in a crowd?"
"Oh, it wasn't on purpose!" She recalled what Liza had written about her brothers and quickly improvised. At this point, she was quite convinced that she was going to Hell for all of the falsehoods that were pouring from her lips. "My little brother was quite upset when I told him that I was leaving home to get married. He played a practical joke on me just before I departed, and the color didn't wash out." Unable to meet his interested gaze, she peered around. "Which reminds me—would you mind directing me to a shop in town, so that I can purchase some hair dye to cover this outlandish shade?"
Not to mention that it would be the perfect excuse for obtaining the means to change my hair color to brown and continue my charade as Liza.
To her dismay, he said gallantly, "You know, Sarah, purple happens to be my favorite color. And I have to say that that you look pretty as a picture just like you are."
He gazed down at her, and the mingled hunger and admiration in his eyes made her face heat. She looked shyly away.
Walt cleared his throat. "Well, my lady, may I escort you to my carriage?" He grinned and indicated the green wagon.
Before Sarah could reply, Emma said, "Now, Walter, I'm afraid I can't release Miss Hunter into your care until you've read and signed this promise of good conduct towards your fiancée."
He looked surprised but didn't protest when Emma handed him the document that Sarah had signed a few minutes ago.
Sarah noticed that he took his time to read it from beginning to end before appending his signature at the bottom in the neat hand that she recognized from his letters.
He handed the document back to Emma with a flourish and a bow, declaring, "There, all done and legal now, my lady!"
"Don't give me cause to regret loaning you that copy of Ivanhoe!" Emma responded, with a twinkle in her gray eyes.
"Well, I reckon I've found my Lady Rowena today," Walt replied, laughing.
He turned and pulled Sarah into his arms.
She stiffened as his lips brushed hers with the same electric feeling as when he'd taken her hand.
He tensed too, as if he had just experienced the same jolt of contact. A heartbeat later, his lips touched hers again, warm and firm, and a slow, hot pulse began throbbing between her legs.
Sarah had never been kissed romantically before. Now she finally understood the swooning sensation described in poems and novels. She melted into Walt's embrace as he kissed her a third time, his mouth lingering over hers this time in a caress sweet as honey and fiery as horseradish.
I wonder if everything about marriage to Walt will be as magical as this kiss.
When he finally ended their kiss and stepped back, she instantly missed his touch. His embrace had left her as giddy as if she'd just downed a glass of wine, and the place between her legs throbbed with a hot, urgent ache kindled by his kiss.
"I've been waiting months to be able to do that," he said. She was happy to note that he sounded every bit as breathless and shaken as she felt.
"I—" She stopped and cleared her throat, trying to corral her thoughts from wandering in a fog of sensual delight. "I'm so happy to meet you in person, especially considering how well acquainted we've become through a winter and spring's worth of correspondence."
Walter smiled down at her. "Pleasure's all mine," he said softly, his gaze fastened on her mouth, where her lips still tingled.
Then Sarah remembered Emma. She glanced nervously at her new acquaintance, fearing that the minister's wife would be utterly scandalized by this public display of affection and that Sarah would henceforth find herself a social pariah.
But instead of the disapproval that Sarah expected, Emma was beaming at them. "I cannot tell you how delighted I am for the two of you! I wish you both all the happiness in the world, and I can't wait for your wedding day!" She turned to Walt and added in a firm tone. "And I look forward to seeing Sarah at the dance next Friday."
"Yes, my lady," he promised cheerfully, lifting his hat. "We'll be there. And I'm sure that all the other single men in town will be fixing to drop dead of envy when they lay eyes on my lovely bride."
Sarah was still dazed from the overpowering sensations evoked by his kiss.
"It was so lovely to make your acquaintance," she remembered to say to Emma. "I hope to see you again soon."
Emma gave her a swift, sisterly hug. "Yes, next Friday! Or sooner, if you find yourself in town before then."
"That yours?" Walt asked, jerking a thumb in the direction of the lonely trunk sitting on the platform some distance away.
Sarah nodded, and he strode over to it. Her breath caught as he lifted it with apparent ease, his coat pulling taut over his broad shoulders, and carried it in the direction of the green wagon with its patiently waiting horse.
"Until Friday, then!" Sarah told her new friend.
She picked up her carpetbag and hurried after him.
She came to a halt next the wagon and pondered the best way to climb up to the high bench seat at the front of the wagon without lifting her skirts and exposing a scandalous amount of leg. Meanwhile, Walt heaved the trunk into the wagon bed, next to a collection of big burlap sacks labeled sugar, oats, potatoes, and coffee beans.
"Allow me," he said, coming up beside her.
Without waiting for her reply, he seized her by the waist and lifted her up onto the wagon with the same effortless strength he'd demonstrated with her trunk.
"Thank you," she said, settling herself onto the narrow bench and arranging her skirts.
"Nothing to it," he said modestly.
He climbed up next to her and gathered up the reins, then released the brake and ordered the big bay horse, "Cincinnati, walk up. "
The wagon began rolling away from the station.
Ahead of them, Sarah saw a ramshackle collection of buildings lining both sides of the wide, deeply rutted dirt street. Here and there stood a whitewashed storefront, but these isolated examples only made the neighboring unpainted board buildings look all the shabbier.
Accustomed as she was to Boston's paved streets and beautiful old brick buildings, Sarah tried hard to tamp down her disappointment at her first glimpse of Twin Forks.
At least it's lively here, she told herself. And indeed it was. Despite its rough appearance, the town appeared to be a bustling place. The street was crowded with men in work clothes and wagons piled high with furniture and other items
that had looked like they'd come on the train.
Within a few dozen yards of the train station, Sarah spotted a laundry, a bakery, a blacksmith, a mercantile, and no less than three assay offices, four attorneys-at-law, and a miners' court. She knew what they were because of the rows of painted cloth banners stretched between pairs of poles stuck into the dirt on the edges of the unpaved street.
"Where is Mr. Williams?" she asked, yielding to curiosity when they had driven in silence for several minutes.
She had been dying to ask the whereabouts of her other intended husband earlier, but hadn't dared to test Emmaline Kottinger's remarkable tolerance any further.
"Oh, he just finished up a stint at the mine," Walt said, keeping his gaze straight ahead. "He's back at the ranch, getting cleaned up to meet you."
"I see," she said politely.
Was it her imagination, or had Walt sounded unhappy just now? She studied his clean-cut profile, trying to read his expression.
Then she turned her attention back to the sights—such as they were—of her new home.
They were nearing the outskirts of the crude settlement, and the buildings were growing more scattered. She saw one or two cabins with fenced gardens boasting rows of herbs and vegetables, but most of the dwellings lining the street here were crude one-room shacks that had clearly been constructed in haste from whatever materials came to hand.
Oddly, most of these shacks featured a railroad lantern with red glass hung next to the front door, and a banner bearing a woman's name, such as "Sweet Annie," and "Jenny." One of larger buildings, an actual two-story cottage with glass windows and rosebushes planted next to the covered porch had a banner reading "Texas Mattie."
