The Cowboy’s Bride Collection: 9 Historical Romances Form on Old West Ranches
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No matter how much he learned from Millie’s class, he doubted he would ever meet Mrs. Cain’s approval. Very few men in Wichita, Kansas, would. Now that he had met his potential mother-in-law, he would add that obstacle to his prayer list.
He passed the piano on the way to their corner and noticed a bag of music laying on the bench. Since no one was watching, he peeked into the bag. Millie’s name was written inside a rather tattered hymnal, confirming the bag belonged to her. The book opened to one of his favorite hymns, “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” He flipped through the sheet music, interested in the variety of songs she brought with her. No cowboy songs, he noticed. She had probably never heard “Home on the Range” or “Old Paint.” Would it be “proper” for a group of students to sing along with Tex and his guitar? He reviewed the list of rules of conversation and decided it was an appropriate topic.
Grabbing the bag, he headed in Millie’s direction. “Miss Cain, I noticed this bag of music by the piano, which I believe belongs to you.”
She looked so pretty when she blushed. “Yes, it is mine. Thank you.”
“Have you decided whether you will sing for us before the end of the week? I would greatly enjoy it.”
Millie’s eyes slid sideways at the older ladies. “It is still under discussion.”
“Sentimental songs such as ‘My Grandfather’s Clock’ would be well received. With as many light drinkers and teetotalers such as myself, we have little need for tunes such as ‘Sons of Temperance.’” That last comment brought a slight smile on a couple of faces, including Millie’s.
“I’ll keep it in mind.” Standing, Millie excused herself from the matrons with a promise to end the class within a few minutes. When she strolled in the direction of the podium, Wes took advantage of a few moments to speak with her alone.
“I expect you will discuss the matters of social behavior between men and women in a future class, but I wanted to make my case now. Would you, Miss Cain, be willing to promenade down Main Street with me tomorrow afternoon?” He handed her a card, which remained unclaimed for several seconds.
Her mouth opened and closed, shock clearly written on her face. His hopes tumbled to the bottom of his chest.
Chapter 5
Millie knew she looked like a fish, the way her mouth had flopped open then closed. Earlier, she had seen Wes exchange a card with Ellen. Did he intend to make his way through every lady in the class before the week was over?
Anger washed over her, and one of her personal rules for conversation forbade speaking while upset. “Let me dismiss the class, then we can talk.” She swept away from him, the disappointment on his face leaving her with mixed feelings.
Her abrupt dismissal didn’t discourage Wes. After class, he waved good-bye as his friends exited, and remained at the door.
Ellen reached Wes first. After they exchanged a few words, she gestured for Millie to join them. Millie’s nose tilted in the air out of habit, but she quickly lowered it. She took her time joining them, taking leave of other girls and students along the way. Once she settled a practice time with Ruthie, Millie held her breath as she turned around to see whether either Mr. Wesley or Ellen remained waiting for her.
They both were waiting—with Mother. The conversation appeared pleasant, Mother not displaying any of the subtle signs of displeasure that Millie could recognize at this distance. Assuming a pleasant expression on her face, she crossed the floor to join them.
“A lady does not keep her escort waiting such an overlong time.” Mother had saved her scolding for her daughter.
What escort? “I needed to make arrangements with Miss Hasselblad for tomorrow.” Millie kept her smile in place. “Mr. Wesley, it was unnecessary for you to wait, for we already have a ride home.”
“Ah, but I await your answer. I’m afraid I told your mother that I had requested an opportunity for a promenade tomorrow afternoon.”
Millie’s heart skipped a beat. Perhaps Mother had opposed his invitation and solved her problem.
“She gave her permission, if you wish to accompany me.”
Ellen looked delighted at the news, in spite of her own upcoming outing with Mr. Wesley. With Ellen’s excitement, her mother’s permission, and Mr. Wesley’s open invitation, what could Millie say, except, “Shall I prepare for your visit at two in the afternoon?”
They made the arrangements and parted ways. On the way home, the air fairly shimmered with the things Ellen and Millie weren’t saying to each other. Why did Wes want to go with first Ellen, then Millie? Why did he have to be interested in her best friend?
For once, Millie was glad when Mother led the conversation, summarizing the high and low points of the lesson. She mentioned one humorous incident, and the friends giggled.
“Really, girls,” Mother huffed.
Both Millie and Ellen broke into laughter and the tension eased. Whatever was happening, the two of them would be able to talk through it.
When they dropped Ellen off at her house, Millie invited her to dinner in the most formal style possible. She hoped to deflect Mother’s suspicions, but Ellen’s eyes flew open in understanding.
“Unless you have other plans?” How long was her promenade with Mr. Wesley meant to last?
“I will gladly accept. If my mother says we have other plans, I will send word to you,” Ellen said.
Millie spent the afternoon in the study with Mother. Millie meant to write notes to thank each lady for her unique contribution. The first one she discarded because of an ink blot, and she stared at the next for five minutes without writing a word.
Instead of scolding, Mother left and returned with a tea platter and fresh apple. “I remember when you were a little girl that you loved apples in the autumn. You would ask me for apple dishes every day, until I thought I could never stand the sight of another apple.”
“Apple pie, of course. Apple cake, applesauce, apple raisin bread, apple crisp, apple butter…” The longer the list, the more her stomach rumbled.
“Stop! Before you demand fried apples for dinner.”
Millie took the apple, a new variety in an inviting shade of red with hints of gold and green. Before she took her first bite of crisp goodness, she polished it with her napkin. The taste made her moan with pleasure. The tea with its hint of honey added the perfect complement to the apple. After she drained her tea, she dabbed her mouth.
Mother smiled. “You ate that apple the same way you did as a child.”
Millie squirmed. If she didn’t want to be treated like a child, she shouldn’t act like one.
Mother didn’t notice her squirming; instead, she looked out the window at the tree leaves changing colors. “Life is like the seasons, isn’t it? I loved Boston. I always will. When I left, I never expected to find another apple that I could enjoy nearly as much as a McIntosh.”
Millie nodded.
“But then God brought us here. I am slowly accepting that this is a new season. An apple can be different but enjoyable. Don’t let the past rob you of your future, my dear daughter. Remember that as you finish your class.”
Was Mother expressing approval of the men in her class? Her change of mind added a new twist to Millie’s dilemma.
Wes waited outside Bertha Babcock’s boardinghouse until T-Bone escorted Ellen to meet him. As T-Bone assisted Ellen from the carriage, Wes sensed a spark of interest between them.
Ellen sprang toward Wes before she remembered herself and turned around to thank T-Bone. His face turned a shade darker. “My pleasure, Miss Harper. Happy to oblige, anytime.”
Yes, the cook was definitely smitten. How did Ellen feel? Wes took Ellen’s arm, and they strolled down the sidewalk. “How long do you intend to keep up this charade?” she asked. “If I continue to accept rides from Mr. Robinson, my parents will think we’re courting.”
Wes cleared his throat. “Speaking of that—I believe T-Bone is smitten with you. Should I discourage him?”
“T-Bone?” Ellen shook her head. �
��Oh, like a steak. You told me that he was your cook. Maybe he would cook my meals.” She stopped her laughter. “He is pleasant company, but I don’t know him well enough. Half of my friends believe they are in love, even Ruthie Hasselblad, who is the most levelheaded girl I know. Maybe I could fall in love with Mr. Robinson, someday. But right at this second, I am only open to the possibility.”
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “But enough about me. Now that you have met Millie, what do you think?”
The expected question lacked an answer. “She is lovely enough to arouse love at first sight. Beautiful enough to inspire a moonlight serenade.”
Ellen lifted her face to see him more fully. “You do care for her. That sounds like one of your letters.”
Had Millie shared his intimate letters with her? The thought made him shiver.
“Don’t worry. She read me a poem or two. I did tell her that you liked poetry and music.” Ellen hesitated. “Maybe that’s how you can let her know who you are. Give her the music for one of your songs and ask her to sing it at the dance.”
Fear froze Wes. He wasn’t prepared to risk it all. “I still don’t know what she thinks of plain old Wes Harper, cowhand.”
“You’re not giving her enough credit. She might be more upset about the deceit than your occupation. You need to let her know, soon.”
But how? “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“So Millie said some foolish things. She may regret them, now that she’s come to know the men in the class. Even Mrs. Cain’s attitude is changing.”
Ellen’s words discouraged Wes even more. He blamed Millie for her worldly view about appearances, but lying was just as bad. In fact, it sat right up there, number nine on the list of the ten big ones.
“Pray with me about it, will you?” As he walked back to the boardinghouse, the verse, If anyone lacks wisdom, ask God, pricked Wes’s brain. As soon as he reached his room, he dug out his Bible. The verse was right where he expected to find it, in the fifth verse of the first chapter of James: “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.”
A simple idea. Lack wisdom, ask God, and He’ll give it—liberally. And the best part—without scolding. “That’s me, God. I messed up. Show me how to show Millie who I am, inside and out.” He stopped for a minute, wondering if he had the right to give God a timetable. “I’d like to let her know soon, Lord, so if You could show me the answer before the class ends, I’d appreciate it.”
No answers popped into Wes’s head, but he slept better than since his arrival in Wichita. Before he slept, he lay in bed, humming a melody softly, one that pulled together bits of his favorite hymns and an old cowboy song or two into something uniquely his. When he awoke early in the morning, he was sure of his next step. He would write a song and present it to Millie to perform at the dance. If she didn’t recognize him in his music… she didn’t know Wes at all.
In fact, when he hummed the tune he had composed last night, he had the words to the first line.
Chapter 6
Wednesday morning Millie arrived at the church early in the morning. With today’s lesson on table manners, the matrons had offered to arrange the meal preparation. Hired help would have sped up the preparations, but the camaraderie of working together improved Millie’s mood.
When she had a few quiet minutes, Millie held the stack of cards in her hands, and the seating chart she had pored over the night before. She had never served as hostess before. At home, that was Mother’s job. Meals at church were usually informal affairs, arranged by Mrs. Snowden. Unlike either of those, this occasion was meant to mimic a fancy dinner, to teach proper behavior.
The hostess determined the seating, which she would explain during the lectures. Family and close friends shouldn’t sit close together; relative strangers should encourage more general conversation.
As host and hostess, Pastor Snowden and Millie would sit at the head and foot of the first table with the guests of honor on each side. Since they had an equal number of men and women, they would be seated like a checkerboard down the tables.
All the ladies knew each other to some extent, but Millie didn’t know of any connections among the men. She decided to separate them by their hometowns. No one had complained at Mr. White’s presence, and she hoped no one would complain if he was their dinner companion. To avoid any issues, she should put him next to her.
The seats next to the host and hostess were reserved for the guests of honor. She decided Mr. White would be one guest of honor. After debating her internal reasons, Wes would be her other guest of honor. He was the trail boss for several of the drovers, and the others seemed to respect him. The female guests of honor were easier to choose: Mother, as president of the Society, and Ellen, as her assistant.
Ruthie arrived early as Millie finished her tasks, with hopes of practicing music ahead of time. With a few men already hovering at the entrance, Millie hesitated to sing in their presence. Explaining the situation to Ruthie, they decided to brainstorm a time and place they could practice without interruption.
Wes entered the room as Millie headed to greet the guests. The trouble he had taken with his appearance took her breath away. He had shaved his beard to a fashionable mustache and he even had donned a suit, as if attending a Sunday dinner. He would present well at a Boston soiree, let alone this afternoon dinner party. His tanned skin looked well against his black jacket in a way she wouldn’t have expected. She took a few moments to bring herself under control before she addressed the gathering.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the dinner party of the Learn How to Be a Gentleman class. As the first step, gentlemen, take the arm of the lady next to you. Escort her to the place where her name card has been placed, before finding your own seat.” She had warned the ladies to help the gentlemen find their own places, since she suspected some of them couldn’t read.
Millie kept her eyes away from the spot where Mr. Wesley waited. Instead, she accepted Pastor Snowden’s hand. He gave his other arm to Mother and walked with them to the table. She waited in her seat, grateful she could see everyone at both tables. Mr. Brown was delighted to discover he was seated across from Ellen as he helped her to her seat. Ellen glanced at Millie, a smile offering thanks.
When Mr. Wesley discovered his seat, he nodded in Millie’s direction. “Good afternoon, Miss Cain. I am blessed to enjoy this repast in your company.”
He sounded like he was spouting dialogue from a romance, but the effort touched Millie. “As we are also, Mr. Wesley. In fact”—she leaned closer and spoke in a low voice—“are you willing to assist me with today’s lesson?”
His lips curled. “What do you have in mind?” Merriment danced in his eyes as she explained his role. By the time they finished their arrangements, everyone had settled in their chairs.
Mr. Wesley tucked the gleaming linen napkin into the collar of his white shirt. He looked so ridiculous that Millie wanted to laugh. Unfortunately, a few other men followed his example. Others asked the ladies next to them and kept the napkin sensibly on their laps.
At her signal, Millie and Ellen passed tureens of vegetable soup, one to the right and one to the left. Millie intended to wait until they finished the first course before she commented on Mr. Wesley’s deliberate misbehavior. It became difficult as he followed his instructions to the letter.
Soup spoons were used to consume soup, the outermost cutlery by his plate. Mr. Wesley defied this obvious wisdom by spearing chunks of potatoes and carrots of his overfull bowl with a fork. “This soup is lip-smacking good, almost as good as something that T-Bone ever fixed. Tell your cook thanks for me, will you?”
His conversation was the opposite of his earlier obsequious attempts. Millie bit her lip to keep from laughing. After the tureen returned to Mr. Wesley, he glanced around the table. In spite of the fact that several women had finished their bowls, he poured himself a second servin
g before sending it around again. He put his fork halfway through and nodded to Millie.
Millie stood, glad they could end the skit Wes had performed for their benefit. “Before we continue to the main course, I want to thank Mr. Wesley for demonstrating some of the behavior which is undesirable in a dinner guest.”
“Like slurping the soup,” Mr. Brown said. Laughter spread across the room at his comment.
“Correct.” When no one else spoke, she said, “What other behavior did you notice?”
“I never saw anyone eat soup with a fork before,” Mr. Robinson said. “Course, sometimes on the trail we have to drink it from the plate.”
The room erupted in laughter.
He waved his hand, quieting the crowd. “But I never made a soup that was so thick and tough that it needed a fork.”
Several men around the table nodded their heads in agreement. One of the other men—the redheaded Mr. Mulrooney—spoke up next. “He looked mighty silly with that napkin tucked into his shirt.”
“That’s what a bandanna’s for,” Mr. Jackson said. Although a few men laughed, the ladies wrinkled their noses as if imagining wiping their faces with a dirty, sweaty bandanna.
Before they descended into more colorful description of life on the trail, Millie stepped in. “I’m sure the rough living on the cattle trail leads to different manners, but once you are in town, especially among ladies, you want to impress them with your manners. You have identified several incorrect behaviors. Mr. Wesley, if you care to explain?”
Wes took the cue. Millie’s invitation had surprised him, but after he discovered she had designated him the “guest of honor” and placed him by her side, he would have done almost anything.
“Most of us that are over the age of two know how to eat without slurping up food. I guess I never grew up.” He grinned, inviting the guests to laugh with him.