by Carol Arens
Little Mouse hopped onto the desk, lifted up on her hind feet and pawed the air, as if to dry Ivy’s tears.
Scooping the mouse up, she pressed the warm furry body to her cheek.
“Only one way to see him again,” she said to the mouse as though the critter understood. “...and that is to stay at the Lucky Clover where he knows I am at.”
And to make the best of things while she did.
Dinner was in an hour. She would make sure and enjoy every bite.
She swiped her sleeve across her eyes, carried Little Mouse to her wood-and-wire cage, then she crossed the room to the huge and ornate wardrobe. Opening the grand doors, she lifted out her saddle pack.
“Suede pants...yellow shirt with a ruffle at the neck?” The ruffle was small, but it would itch.
Still, if she did not want to shame Travis in front of his friends, she would put on her finest clothes along with a smile.
She stood before a mirror that was taller than she was while she pulled on the pants, buttoned the shirt, then tugged on her boots.
“Something is missing.” She tapped her finger on her lip, thinking. “That’s it! When a lady is wearing a ruffle, a braid just won’t do. She ought to let her hair fall free.”
From the bottom of the saddle pack, she withdrew her hairbrush. “Now where’s that fool ribbon?”
It was here when she’d packed all her worldly belongings. The satin strip was yellow, a near match in color to her shirt.
There it was! She drew it out, relieved that it was not too wrinkled.
She brushed her hair, watching in the mirror until it changed from dull to shining. At last, it caught the lamplight with a pretty glow, so she fastened it in the ribbon and made a bow of loops and whirls.
With her hands on her hips, she turned front to back, then back to front. She grinned at her reflection.
“No one will mistake me for a boy tonight.”
There was a knock on her door.
She opened to Travis, spun about for his approval.
He held a large box in his arms, looking as nervous as a fellow raiding a beehive.
“What’d you bring me, a rattler?”
“Just something to wear to dinner.”
Must not have noticed that she’d already put on her respectable best.
He set the box on the bed so gently that she wondered if he thought dynamite was inside.
“Go ahead.” He pointed at the box. “Open your gift.”
It did have a right pretty bow on it so she reckoned it was not going to bite or explode.
She lifted the lid.
Frilly tissue hid what the box contained. When she lifted it off, a pink gown winked up at her, the bodice covered in sparkly geegaws.
“I’ll go to my room and wait while you put it on.”
She poked at the two-inch lace trimming the collar. Did he want her to strangle?
“You’ll be waiting a mighty long time, Travis Murphy.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “As you can see, I’m already dressed for dinner in proper company.”
“But Ivy, you can’t wear pants. And your hair needs to be worn up. Haven’t you ever eaten in an elegant dining room?”
“The Queen was gull-durned elegant. Fancy folks dressed in all kinds of foolish finery just to dine. I had the good sense to eat with Tom.”
“This is a high-class place. Please...put on the dress.”
“If you’re ashamed of how I look I’ll go to dinner without you.”
When he stared at her, lips drawn tight in silence, she crossed the room making her strides long and quick so that he would know she was hopping mad.
She flung the door open and walked into the hall.
A moment later she heard his boot steps coming behind her, as she’d hoped she would.
She knew enough about men to understand they were uncomfortable hurting a female’s feelings. She reckoned Travis would do most anything to set things right.
“I’m sorry, Ivy, but...as lovely as I think you look, folks in Cheyenne won’t think so.”
“I don’t reckon I’ll like living among narrow-minded fools.”
“They aren’t narrow-minded. Did you know that women in Wyoming already have the right to vote?”
“What good is that when they don’t have the right to dress sensible?”
“Ivy.” He touched her elbow, stroked her upper arm with his thumb and sent strange tingles up it. “You’ve got to start looking like a lady if things are going to work out.”
“You go put on that pink dress. I’ll wager you can’t eat without getting a bellyache.”
He dropped his hand, shook his head.
“You’re hungry, I’m hungry. I suppose we’re both peevish. Let’s have dinner.”
“Don’t worry, Travis.” She walked beside him down the stairs. Good thing she wasn’t wearing that dress or he’d be picking her up off the floor below. “Folks will come around. Why, I reckon someday ladies will get smart and wear pants in public every day. After a while, nobody will give a wink about it.”
“Sure do wish someday was now,” Travis mumbled under his breath as he led her outside.
Positioning his big muscular body just so, he shielded her from most of the dust and grit pelting them.
After hurrying the distance of one block, Travis opened the door of Porter’s Steak House. When he closed the door, the howl of the wind was replaced with the sweet strains of a violin.
Gosh almighty, the hotel was elegant, but Porter’s Steak House was exquisite. A crystal chandelier hung smack over her head. It cast delicate, fairylike lights on the ceiling and walls.
The polite murmur of diners filtered from the next room. She couldn’t see them in all their fanciness past the wall blocking the dining room.
If the chandelier was something to gawk at, the wall was even more so. The whole thing was made of polished wood carved with a floor-to-ceiling depiction of a herd of cattle grazing on the plain.
“Good evening, Charles. Table for two, if you please,” she heard Travis say while she watched a calf on the wall bawling for its mother. The image was so vivid she nearly heard the forlorn wail.
“Good evening, Mr. Murphy. It’s good to see you back in town.”
Ivy turned her attention to the man speaking, ready to give him a cordial greeting. Making friends in her new hometown was important.
It would please Travis to see her doing so.
Blazin’ day! The fellow was frowning at her for no reason whatsoever.
“I’d like to, but we do have our standards.” The man’s gaze slid over her, smirking, finding her lacking from head to toe. Maybe she ought to have spit shined her boots.
“The lady and I will sit at my usual table.” Travis said as if the snobbish Charles had not spoken.
“When you are with a lady, I will happily seat you.”
Ivy’s cheeks flamed. She pressed her fingers to them to see if they were actually burning.
“Come, miss. I’ll escort you outside so that the gentleman can enjoy his meal.”
Charles grasped her elbow. Roughly, he propelled her toward the door.
Travis’s arm shot out. He clamped Charles on the shoulder, spun him about then punched him in the face.
The doorman crumpled to the floor. Blood spurted from his nose.
“I think you broke it. Looks a mite crooked.” Ivy knelt beside the unconscious man.
“Let’s go,” Travis said, his voice sharp. He sure didn’t sound like her congenial traveling partner.
“I’ll just...” She felt the bridge of Charles’s nose. A tweak would set it straight again. “There, good as new. He’ll never know what happened.”
With a hand under her elbow, Travis lifted her from
the doorman’s side. His touch was gentler than his tone.
“If he doesn’t, I’ll damn remind him.”
He hurried her outside, once again protecting her from the sandstorm with his body.
Chapter Six
An hour later Ivy sat smack in the middle of the huge bed feeling an overwhelming urge to weep.
It took some time to understand why. She’d had to sift through so many emotions to get to the reason. Homesickness for one, then add to that the shame of being treated so rudely.
The revulsion of a stranger forcing his hand upon her, trying to make her go somewhere against her will—that was what constricted her throat and made tears press against her eyes.
All of those emotions spun her about. But she could not deny an overwhelming gratitude to Travis for being there to defend her.
And after she had been so stubborn! So foolish! He had been so right about what she ought to have worn and she had been so wrong.
Even given her mistaken judgment of how things were, Travis had defended her. Funny how that made her heart feel all fluttery.
It was for his sake that she had taken a moment to set Charles’s nose. She didn’t know if there would be repercussions from what had happened, but at least folks would not be constantly reminded about it by the doorman’s disfigurement.
A knock tapped on her door. She opened to Travis.
“You as hungry as I am?” he asked, coming in and closing the door behind him.
He crossed the room and set a tray on the bed.
She swallowed her bout of self-pity and discovered that, “I could eat a cow.”
“Good thing there’s plenty of steak in these parts.”
“You went back there to get dinner?” She hoped not, if only for no more reason than the wind had grown fiercer in the last half hour.
“The hotel’s got a kitchen. The food is decent, if not as fancy as Porter’s.”
“I reckon I don’t have a fancy for fancy.”
“I’m sorry for what happened, Ivy. Charles has always been a snob, seeing himself better than he is.”
“It’s my own fault...thinking everyone should fall into line with what I want.” The pink dress, spread across a chair in the corner of the room glared at her in accusation. “Or don’t want.”
She thought that Travis was going to uncover the food, but instead, he reached over the tray to put his arms about her.
“None of this is your fault, honey.” She felt his beard stubble against her cheek, felt one big hand cup the back of her head. “Not a bit of it.”
He pulled away, but the scent of his skin lingered on her face. She inhaled deeply.
“I should have listened to you, Travis. I worry about what will happen once that man spreads his story.”
“A punch in the nose in defense of a lady is acceptable. The shame is on him. It’s unlikely that he’ll talk much about it.”
“That is a relief.” It was but...did he really think—“Do you think I’m a lady?”
“A fine lady, Ivy. Don’t let anyone make you believe otherwise.”
“That woman at the station thought I was a man.”
“If you’ll allow me to help, I promise that will not happen again.”
Help by stuffing her in gowns, did he mean? She stared at him silently for a time.
Briefly, he squeezed her hand.
“Eat up, we’ve got steak, mashed potatoes, some kind of fancy bread. And...that?” he said.
She shook her head. “That” was something bluish in color, with veins in it, drowning in an orange sort of sauce. She’d never seen the like before.
“I don’t know what it is...don’t know what a lot of things are.”
“What is it you need to know?”
“I understand that I’ve got to marry the neighbor, save the ranch and everyone on it. But what I don’t know is what’s wrong with the place that it’s in such a scrape?” She stabbed a piece of beef with her knife then pointed it at him. “How can a simple river gal possibly bring Mr. English?”
“I reckon you should have known it all from the beginning, before you made your choice.” He set the piece of bread that he had been about to take a big bite of back on his plate.
Wind rattled the windows, sand pinged against them. He jerked his hand through his hair, stared at the floor then at her.
“I didn’t tell you the whole of it because I thought if you knew, you wouldn’t come.”
“What is the whole of it?” As hungry as she was, she set her plate aside. “Gosh almighty, Travis, did you think I’d abandon Agatha?”
“I know now you wouldn’t have.” He picked up her hand, rubbed his fingers across her knuckles. “The reason the ranch is in trouble is that your father took out a note on it. There was a drought a couple of summers ago. We lost a lot of cattle. Restocking cost more money than he had. So he borrowed from the bank and bought a bunch of the sweetest cows around.
“The trouble was, the following winter was a hard one. We lost most of the herd. Now, without them, we don’t have the money to repay the loan. Your father thought a marriage to William would get us past that debt. When William agreed, your father changed his will, leaving Agatha out and giving it all to you.”
“Seems a cold thing to do to her. She’s been his daughter all along. He never knew me.”
“It might seem a cold thing. I thought so too at first, but really, it was the only way he could see to protect Agatha.”
That made as much sense as a fish walking on land.
“So, the ranch has an heir, William English will have a bride, but what I can’t figure is why he wants me. What do I have to offer him?”
“Respect.”
“You funnin’ me, Travis?” She grabbed the bread off her plate and bit off a hunk. “I’m a mite shy of being respectable by this town’s standards.”
“I told you he wants to be elected to the territorial legislature, but that’s not all. He’s got his eye on being governor of Wyoming once we become a state. That’s a long time off, but English is an ambitious man. He figures if he doesn’t set his course early on, he won’t get where he wants to go.
“While he’s got money, he’s also fairly new to Cheyenne. If he wants votes he’s got to win over the folks who have been here all their lives. The Lucky Clover is an old established ranch—it’s got a lot of prestige. Like I told you back on the River Queen, the ranch is one of the biggest in Laramie County. If he’s got the Magee name behind him, it will guarantee votes.”
“Why didn’t he just marry Agatha? Would have made things simpler.”
“Your sister isn’t fit for the life he’s aiming for. All that rigorous socializing would be too much for her. Hilda Brunne believes it’s risky for her to go outside, or even leave her room.”
A finger of heat nipped at Ivy’s temper. Any fool knew that the great outdoors was good for the constitution.
“We’ll see about that,” she muttered but with bread in her mouth so she was pretty sure the statement had been garbled beyond recognition. She swallowed. “How much authority as heir do I have?”
“It’s your ranch. You make all the decisions.”
“Gosh almighty, I don’t know a thing about ranching. You won’t quit on me, will you? I just want the say-so when it comes to Agatha.”
“I won’t leave you, honey. Besides, the Lucky Clover is the blood in my veins. Couldn’t ride away from it even if I wanted to.”
As much as she disliked what she was coming to understand, she could not run from the fact that the life she had known was about to fold up on her.
When it came down to things, Ivy would do anything for Agatha. If she could pilot a steamboat, she sure as shootin’ could navigate the baffling waters of high society, could become the well
-mannered wife that the governor of Wyoming would require.
“All right then, Travis, teach me how to be a lady.”
* * *
“Gull-durned bunch of pink trouble!”
Ivy glared at the mess of rose-petal-hued petticoats she had tossed on the floor. She’d stomp on the stiff, lacy snake but she figured Travis had spent a lot of money on it.
For the life of her she couldn’t figure out how to get it on. Over the head? Step into it? There were so many ribbons and ties, how was she to know which matched up with which?
If there was only one of them fluffy demons, she might have figured it out, but there were three of the blasted things. She’d need a book to know what went where.
Steady rain tapped on her window. No sun this morning, and no breakfast either. If she didn’t get some vittles soon, she’d waste away.
She glanced in the mirror, relieved that she was not completely ignorant of women’s things. At least she’d figured out that the chemise went on first and the bloomers went over her legs.
Too bad she couldn’t just go around in bloomers. Those were just like fancy trousers.
She snatched the corset off the bed, stared at it in confusion. It laced up, but did the laces go in front, back, or side? The wicked garment should have come with instructions.
The sooner she figured it out, the sooner she would be able to put on the dress—without all the petticoats—and go find a bite of breakfast from the kitchen Travis had mentioned.
She stood in front of the big mirror frowning and dangling the corset this way and that.
Then, all of sudden, she stopped, stared in surprise. She did look rather fetching in the soft underclothes. The lace tickling her flesh a full inch below the upper swell of her breasts was not annoying like she figured it would be.
The odd sight made her feel feminine in a way she never had. She fluffed her hair about her shoulders, turned this way and back.
If this was all she was required to wear, life would be fine. Sadly, there was still the mystery of the corset to be solved.
She stared at it, gripped the edges and spread it out. Clearly, the miserable thing was intended to go over the chemise and choke the breath out of her.
