by Lily Reynard
When Liza had told her that she had agreed to marry two men, Sarah had been scandalized and more than a little intrigued. Now, she realized that there was real work here, too, so that neither of her prospective husbands would think that she favored one over the other and feel slighted.
“And Walt, too, of course,” she added hastily.
She reached up to pat his hand where it rested on her hip and felt his tension drain away at her reassurance.
“See?” Walt asked, his tone teasing now. “I told you he wasn’t mad at you.”
Larkin scowled but said only, “Let’s go get the horses. I don’t know about you, but I’m fixing to wash up and put on my Sunday best before we head into town.”
* * *
The wagon pulled up in front of Twin Fork’s largest building, the Hotel Bede. It was made of red brick and boasted a large, whitewashed two-story wooden porch. It dwarfed the ragtag assemblage of box-like wooden shops that lined Main Street on either side of the hotel.
After Walt watered Toledo and left him hitched outside the hotel with a nose bag of oats, he and Larkin escorted Sarah up the porch stairs and into the hotel.
The sound of fiddle and accordion music, accompanied by the rhythmic stamping of boots against the wooden floor planks, drifted into the lobby, which featured a grand crescent staircase curving up to the second story.
Walt guided her through a set of double doors at the rear of the lobby, painted with neat black letters that said “Dining Room.”
Sarah emerged into a large, high-ceilinged dining room with walls covered in a pale green wallpaper decorated with a pattern of pink rosebuds. The space was lit by dozens of shining brass lamps hung from the high ceiling, and all of the dining tables had presumably been cleared away for the occasion. A long rectangular banquet table stood against the dining room’s back wall, next to the swinging door that led to the hotel kitchen.
The table held a big glass bowl of punch surrounded by an array of clean glasses of various shapes and sizes. There were also plates of sandwiches, sliced loaf cakes, several pies, and platters piled high with cookies.
Seeing the array of refreshments presented on a variety of mismatched plates, Sarah was very happy that she had decided at the last minute to bring along the peach cobbler that she had baked this morning. It had originally been intended to serve as tonight’s dessert, but she would have felt uncomfortable arriving empty-handed at the first real social function in the place she hoped might become her new home.
The dance was already in full swing when Sarah and her two escorts entered the dining room, which was crowded with men, most of them dressed in what looked like their Sunday best. A three-man band seated on a low dais at the front of the room were playing a lively tune on fiddle, guitar, and accordion. The din of shouted conversations punctuated by the heavy thump of work boots swept over Sarah like a palpable wave.
To Sarah’s intense discomfort, the men standing nearest the door turned and stared at her with open curiosity as she soon as she entered with her escorts.
Thank goodness I don’t still have purple hair, she thought, fighting the urge to smooth her skirts and tuck any stray locks behind her ears.
Taking comfort from the steady presence of her two escorts, she scanned the room.
There were six or seven other women in attendance at the dance. Of these, Sarah recognized only Emmaline Kottinger as she swept by in an energetic waltz led by her much older husband. Despite her delicate condition, she appeared to be keeping pace easily, smiling up into her husband’s eyes with evident affection.
Those miners without female dance partners danced with other men. Everyone looked like they were enjoying themselves.
"Sarah!" Emma called, a bit breathlessly, when the music ground to a halt.
She left her husband’s side and hurried across the dance floor.
Taking Sarah’s hands, she leaned in to give her a friendly kiss on the cheek. "I'm so glad that you made it here! I was looking forward to introducing you to the other ladies."
She turned to Walt and offered her gloved hand. "Hello, Walt.”
He shook it, smiling down at her. “Mrs. K. As always, mighty obliged to you for hosting this shindig.”
Emma turned to Larkin. “And you came, too, Mr. Williams! What a pleasant surprise!"
Larkin grinned as he squeezed her fingers politely. "Figured that Miss Hunter needed an extra bodyguard with all these hard-luck cases here. Thanks for havin’ me, Mrs. K."
Her gray eyes dancing, Emma looked from Sarah to Walt, then back to Sarah. It was clear she was dying to ask how things were going.
"You look lovely, Emma," Sarah said. "That color really suits you."
Not only was it true, but it was also an excellent diversion from the potentially uncomfortable topic of arriving with both Walt and Larkin in tow.
"Thank you! This is my favorite dress, and I sewed it myself." Emma was clad in a blue gown with a loose waist that accommodated her pregnancy, and a fitted bodice showed off her graceful neck and a daring amount of bosom for a minister’s wife. She wore an engraved locket on a gold chain and crocheted white lace gloves that rose to her elbows.
Abby belatedly offered her friend the deep stoneware dish containing the cobbler.
"I’m sorry that I didn’t have a chance to make a bigger dessert,” she told Emma. “But there were only two jars of canned peaches left in the cellar. I’ll bake cookies or a bigger cake next time.”
After Larkin’s apology, she now felt optimistic that she might actually still be residing at the ranch by the time the next dance was held.
"Thank you," Emma said, taking the dish. Dimples appeared in her cheeks as she beamed at Sarah. "I love anything made with peaches. I'll make sure to set aside a bit for Albert and myself before the starving hordes descend."
She caught sight of someone and gestured energetically. “Abby! Abby, Sarah’s here!”
“I really wanted you two to meet,” she told Sarah. “Abby is one of my dearest friends.”
A pretty, extremely curvaceous young woman approached them. She had golden hair close to Sarah’s natural color and wore a draped and bustled green gown that looked like it had come straight from pages of Godey’s Magazine.
“Sarah, I’d like you to meet my good friend, Abigail Brody,” Emma said. “She lives out at the Pronghorn Springs Ranch.” She turned to the newcomer. “Abby, this is Miss Sarah Hunter. She’s the person I was telling you about—Walt’s mail-order bride.”
Sarah suppressed a wince, all too aware of Larkin’s presence at her shoulder. Would his feelings be hurt?
“Hello Walt. And you managed to convince Larkin to come this week, too!” said Mrs. Brody, smiling.
“Howdy, Abby. How’re things going out at your place?” Larkin asked.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Abby,” Walt said. “We were meaning to ask your husband about buying a horse for Sarah. A gentle one, for a novice rider.”
Abby dimpled. “Of course! I’m sure Dan can recommend the perfect mount. I’ll let him know to come talk to you, if you don’t run across him first.”
She turned to Sarah. “And I’ve been dying to meet you, ever since I heard that you arrived! As you can see—” she gestured around the crowded room, “we ladies are sorely outnumbered in Twin Forks, and reinforcements are always appreciated.”
In response, Sarah smiled and held out her hand. “Mrs. Brody, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I can see that Walt wasn’t fibbing when he told me that there weren’t many women here.”
The newcomer returned Sarah’s smile with a warm one of her own. “Please call me Abby.”
“And you must call me Sarah.” Sarah decided that Abby seemed very nice. She hoped that they might become friends, as she and Emma had.
The musicians launched into a rousing polka.
“Well, now that everyone’s been introduced…” Emma gestured at the crowded dance floor. "Enjoy yourselves!"
Then she was hurrying a
way, with brisk steps, carrying the dish with the cobbler towards the refreshment table.
Walt claimed the first dance with Sarah, and a tall, dark-haired, deeply tanned man came over to claim Abby.
Sarah spent the next few minutes whirling happily around the crowded dance floor in Walt’s arms, drinking in his quiet strength and his gentle, happy smile as he gazed down at her.
Then Larkin appeared next to them.
“May I cut in?” he asked.
Sarah didn’t miss the disappointment that flashed across Walt’s face as he released her and stepped back.
“Be my guest,” he said, with a smile that looked forced to Sarah.
“Mighty obliged.” Larkin flashed his friend a rakish grin, then led her away in a long, sliding sideways step.
“You did that on purpose,” Sarah accused him, laughing.
“Maybe.” Larkin’s grin widened. “Or maybe I just wanted to dance with the prettiest girl in the room.”
She found herself blushing at the compliment as he put his hand on her waist and led her expertly. They stepped and whirled together through the crowd in perfect synchrony. His touch reminded her of the pleasures they had shared…and reawakened her wicked hunger for more.
The song ended, but the little band launched immediately into the next tune, so she and Larkin continued to dance.
A minute or two later, Walt loomed over them.
“I’m cutting in,” he informed Larkin, and Sarah thought his smile looked more like a smirk.
“Looks like that’s my cue to vamoose,” Larkin remarked, with a wry twist of his lips. “But don’t worry, Sarah. I’ll be back to claim my turn.”
He handed her back to Walt with a flourish.
Sarah saw the look of triumph on Walt’s face as he took her hand and led her away, and she giggled.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Walt asked her, as he led her into the first turn.
“Oh yes,” she replied sincerely. “I’m so glad we came.”
She spent the next two hours dancing with a succession of miners who approached her with polite requests.
In between, she and Walt managed a few more dances together…only to have Larkin cut in each and every time.
The same thing happened when Larkin asked her to dance. Walt predictably would ask to cut in after a brief interval.
Their competition for her was amusing and more than a bit flattering at first, but Sarah quickly realized that Walt was growing steadily unhappier, while Larkin seemed to be enjoying his friend’s discomfiture a little too much.
“So, neither of you are going to let the other finish a full dance with me?” she asked, after the fourth or fifth round of this, when Walt cut in during a fast polka.
"I may be a little jealous," Walt confessed as they stepped and turned. "There’s too much competition here. I may lose you."
“You won’t lose me,” she said seriously. “And you don’t need to be jealous of Larkin.”
“I’m not jealous,” Walt said, too quickly.
Sarah forced herself to bite her tongue. She just looked at him.
“It’s just that he’s always yanking my chain,” Walt said defensively. “He doesn’t know when to stop. And—” He stopped talking, but Sarah felt his grip tighten on her hand.
“And?” she prompted.
“I’ve been thinking…” he frowned. “Not sure how to say this.”
Sarah felt a pang of apprehension. His normally cheerful expression had gone pensive. They danced in silence for a few more moments before he blurted, “If you’d rather marry Larkin than me, I’ll step aside.”
Chapter Twenty
“I beg your pardon?” Sarah asked, hardly able to believe her ears. What brought this on? He wanted Liza to marry both of them!
“I, ah, mean, if you prefer Lark, then you shouldn’t feel obligated to, uh, marry me.” Walt’s face turned red and he was looking away, though he hadn’t missed a beat of the polka.
Is that what he’s worried about? That I’ve changed my mind about wanting to marry him? Or is he the one having doubts?
“Walt, have you changed your mind about me?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, of course not! It’s just…well, if you’d be happier with Lark than me…”
“You silly man,” she scolded him, relieved. “It’s not like that, at all. I care for you, very much. I care for both of you.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. She was pleased to see the smile return to his face. “I was just thinking that maybe you and Lark had gotten closer than the two of us had.”
“You have no reason to be jealous,” she assured him. “Walt, you’re everything I want in a husband. You are kind, thoughtful, handsome, and hardworking. I feel a great fondness for Larkin as well, but please don’t think that I prefer one of you above the other.”
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”
Walt stopped dancing, and simply held her in a tight embrace, which resulted in several near-collisions with the other dancers before they resumed their waltz.
A short time later, Sarah was returning from a quick trip to the row of outhouses located at the rear of the hotel when she heard someone mention Abigail Brody’s name.
Intrigued, she slowed and stopped in the shadows near the hotel’s back door.
Two of the dance guests had slipped out to enjoy a smoke in the cool night air. She spotted their silhouettes near one corner of the building, and the dim red glow of their cigarettes.
“…not sure if she’s here tonight with Dan, or if that’s actually Jim,” one man said with a snicker.
“Well, it’s not like anyone can tell those two half-breeds apart,” the second man said. “The other day, I heard one of their ranch hands sayin’ that she acted like she was married to both of ‘em! I guess she got two for the price of one when she married a twin, eh?”
“You think they’re both fucking her?” his companion asked.
Sarah recoiled in shock at the crudity of both the language and the speculation.
Guilt followed hard on the heels of the shock. Is this my fault? Are they accusing her of something that I did?
But how could anyone know? Walt and Larkin’s ranch hands all lived in a bunkhouse located a good mile up the road from the house, and they had their own kitchen and their own cook.
“Lucky bastards. I’d like a piece o’ that, tell you what.” Both men guffawed crudely.
Sickened, Sarah slipped quietly back into the hotel before they could see her.
Once inside, she was almost immediately asked for a dance by a shy, heavily bearded young miner. She gamely tackled the dance floor with him, but her pleasure in the evening was spoiled.
Taking a short break to visit the refreshments table, Sarah sipped from a glass of lukewarm punch and watched Abby dancing with her strikingly handsome husband. They both looked happy and very much in love.
How could anyone spread such vile rumors about someone as sweet as her?
It didn’t help restore Sarah’s peace of mind to know that she was planning to do exactly what those men had accused Abby of.
How long will it take before the people in town start talking about me like that? Will I become an outcast here?
I don’t care, she decided. Even if she never left the ranch again, it would be better than Boston…and Mr. Burgess. Twin Forks is my home now, and I won’t let a few jealous gossips drive me away—or stop me from finding happiness with two wonderful men.
“One more dance before we head home?” Walt asked.
She put down her glass and looked around. The crowd was definitely thinning out, probably because many of the attendees had to get up early tomorrow morning and go to work.
“I’d love to,” she said.
Walt grinned. “And then, we’ve got something very important to discuss on the drive home.”
* * *
“What did you want to talk to me about?” Sarah asked Walt, as Toledo plodded steadil
y along.
A pair of kerosene lanterns mounted at the front of the wagon enclosed them in a golden sphere of light, illuminating the path home for the big gelding harnessed to the wagon.
The three of them sat on the padded bench at the front of the wagon. Walt held the reins, and Sarah sat between him and Larkin.
Larkin turned his head cast the pair of them a curious glance. “Did something happen at the dance?”
