by Kit Morgan
“Th-th-thank Heaven for that,” Rafe joked. But he knew what Beans meant. The old cook knew he was stalling.
“Now get back in that parlor and be a man!” Beans waved him off.
Rafe stood. “Okay, I’m g-g-going. But Chance has g-g-got to th-think about this. He put m-m-m … he put me with a deaf girl!”
“Myrakle? Well, she’s a fine young lady.”
“But she c-c-can’t understand me.”
“Heck, Rafe, half the time I can’t understand you, but that don’t mean I don’t like ya. No one’s ever said a bad thing about you. And you’re not the first man or the last to stutter. Take my advice and don’t let it stand in the way of getting yourself a good wife. Chance will work things out in time. You just have to be patient.”
“R-Reverend G-g-g-gregory said the s-s-same thing. You’re r-r-right. You b-b-both are.” He stood and waved at the door. “P-parlor.” He felt like a chastised child, but what did he expect? He’d hired Viola Redburn to find him a wife, and if Chance was doing his best to make that happen, then he had to give him credit where credit was due.
“And don’t let me find you hiding in a corner somewhere,” Beans called after him.
Rafe looked over his shoulder, nodded and left the kitchen. He stood in the hallway, glanced toward the parlor, then through a window at the backyard. Maybe a few more minutes with the chickens wouldn’t hurt. At least until the dancing started.
Chapter Five
But when Rafe reached the backyard he stopped short – there were a few couples back there. He walked around to the front yard, and there were couples there too, with the occasional stray young woman. Most of the couples stood stiffly and glanced at one another between weak smiles and the pulling of collars. But Chance Redburn’s first foray into matchmaking looked to be working. A little.
Then Chance added a new level to the awkwardness with another loud whistle.
“What’s going on?” one of the brides asked.
“We need to move the furniture to make room for dancing,” one of the other men said.
Rafe sighed in relief as everyone filed into the house. Chance wasn’t urging him to dance yet, but he could certainly move furniture.
Inside, brides were being shooed upstairs by one of the other women. Was she their leader or a chaperone? She looked to be just another bride, so probably the former.
“C’mon, Rafe, let’s move some furniture!” He turned in time to see Chance heading into another room. Had the man caught him staring at the brides? He’d only noted them leaving, nothing more. He followed Chance, but glanced at the staircase one last time and saw Miss Estes and another woman reach the top of the stairs. The other woman stumbled, righted herself, then giggled. Then she saw him watching her, hurried down the hall and disappeared.
So he wasn’t the only one embarrassing himself today. Not that the thought made him feel any better. He hoped Chance worked things out with Miss Estes. That would improve his outlook. He sighed and went into the parlor to help with the furniture and anything else Chance might have for him and his fellow bachelors to do.
It didn’t take long to move everything out of the way. Some of the men dispersed across the first floor and veranda to wait for the ladies to come down. Others hurried home to change clothes. Rafe remembered the one that stumbled at the top of the stairs and smiled. She didn’t look as shocked as he thought she might, considering she had an audience. Maybe she didn’t mind a fumble or two. Unlike him, who fumbled repeatedly every time he opened his mouth.
He sat in a rocker on the front porch and stared at the yard and street beyond. Bent was growing. He liked it here. But if he couldn’t find a decent wife, should he stay? He rubbed his face a few times. Who was he kidding? What woman would want him? True, he was solvent because of his business. A good carpenter always had work. He could build a house from the ground up and furnish it besides. He dreamed of building a beautiful cottage for his bride with a garden in the back, a picket fence around the yard, maybe a chicken coop …
But when he opened his mouth to speak, he sounded like a blithering idiot.
He’d heard all his life that he was good looking. But women liked a man to whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and hear him tell her how lovely she was. To hear him say, “I love you.” He could do none of those things, not in the way a woman needed to hear. His looks and business sense couldn’t make up for that.
“What’s the matter with you?”
Rafe looked up at Beans. “Th-th-the usual.”
Beans sat in the chair next to his. “I was worried ya got yellow and flew the coop.”
“N-n-not me.”
“Glad to hear it. But you look like a man who’s been thinking too much.”
Rafe’s eyebrows rose but he said nothing. The less said the better.
“Look, I know you’re worried about this whole business. And I wanna give you another piece of advice.”
Rafe fought against a groan.
“Get that look off your face, sonny boy. I know you don’t wanna hear it, but I’ve got something to say and you’re gonna listen.”
He sighed. “F-f-fine.”
“I hear your daddy’s a preacher in Oregon?”
Rafe nodded.
“Seeing as you’re from there, I’m sure you’ve heard stories about a town called Clear Creek.”
Rafe rolled his eyes. “Who hasn’t?”
“Most folks in Colorado, but that’s beside the point. Me, I’ve been around.”
Rafe nodded again. Beans had done quite a few cattle drives in his younger days. He’d seen more of the West than most of the other young gentlemen in the mansion ever would.
“There’s a story of a woman from there who stuttered like you and she went on to become a duchess. If she can do that, then you can handle this.”
Rafe stared at him a moment. He’d heard the stories growing up of the Duke and Duchess of Stantham from Clear Creek, a speck of a town in the eastern part of the state. The duchess was mute for years, then regained her ability to talk. Rafe’s mother told him it took work, a lot of work. She’d had a stutter for a long time, though not all of her life as he had. He smiled at Beans. “Th-th-thanks. But I … I know th-that story.”
“Then what’s the problem? If she can overcome it, you can too.”
Rafe sighed. Beans was only trying to be helpful, but the truth was he’d never found anything that helped. He could inform Beans of his own mother’s experience, but didn’t want to kill the man’s enthusiasm. Instead he smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. He’d just have to battle through this on his own.
Which he’d been doing anyway. He’d been bullied for it growing up, had embarrassed himself at inopportune times. And when it came to matters of the heart … well, he couldn’t punch a woman in the jaw or draw his gun on her for making fun of his affliction. Those things might work on a man, but not a woman he was hoping to impress.
He suddenly noticed Beans hadn’t left. “W-w-was there s-something else?”
Beans smiled. “Don’t be afeared, ya hear? The Lord has someone out there for ya. You just wait and see.” He tapped the side of his nose, winked and went back inside.
Rafe sat a moment, then heard music, someone playing a piano. Others heard it too and began to go inside, just as some of the women came downstairs and headed for the library. “Who is that playing?” one of the men asked.
“I don’t know,” said another.
Rafe followed them into the library and his jaw dropped. Myrakle Estes was at the keys – deaf as a post but playing like a maestro. “M-m-my Heaven.”
“Just like Heaven, you mean.”
He turned to see the woman who’d stumbled at the top of the stairs earlier. She smiled shyly at him. “Who would have thought she could play so beautifully?”
He watched her, realizing she hadn’t noticed his stutter. Yet, anyway. He licked his lips and did his best to focus on Miss Estes. She ended the piece to much applause and expressions of j
oy, and he smiled. She’d redone her hair, changed into an emerald silk ball gown and looked picture perfect. She’d make someone a fine wife … provided the man could talk clearly.
Miss Estes blushed as she studied everyone – reading their lips, no doubt. Rafe watched her fellow brides gush with excitement over her miraculous playing. He even spied Beans in a corner, beaming proudly. One would think she was his relation or something. Had they become friends in the short time since she arrived? From what he’d heard of the man, if Beans liked you, he let you know in one way or another. And if he didn’t …
… he didn’t want to think about that. The man had tried giving him sage advice twice that day. He needed to think about what the old man said. But he’d also had enough experience with his stutter to know there was nothing he could do about it. He was at God’s mercy for a wife that would look past his stutter and see the rest of him.
He watched people mill around the room, but had little interest in doing so. Maybe he should find a quiet corner and a book.
Miss Estes flew by with a grin in a swirl of skirts and petticoats. After being so disappointed with him, she needed this. Did she know about his stutter beforehand? Probably – she’d looked miserable the moment Chance placed her hand in his earlier and told them to go for a walk.
Rafe sighed, ran his hand through his hair and closed his eyes. Time to bring in the heavy artillery. Dear Lord, I try not to ask for much, but I’m asking You this: please don’t let me make a fool of myself in front of the bride you have in mind for me. If she’s here, could You let me know, show me which one’s mine? I’d appreciate it. I believe what Beans said, that You have someone out there for everyone. So that must mean me too. I trust your judgment. Amen.
He opened his eyes, stepped toward the corner to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, then stopped. That wasn’t exactly acting on faith, was it? He took a deep breath, glanced around the room and realized Beans had been busy. A long table was covered with a white linen cloth and plates of goodies, plus a bowl of punch at one end surrounded by crystal cups. They reminded him of his mother’s set.
He had a sudden pang of loneliness. He’d done his best over the years to stay busy, because if he worked enough, he didn’t have to think about being alone. But he’d come to the point where he didn’t want to go through life by himself any longer. The big question was, could he find someone to share his life with?
There was a small commotion across the room. A distracted Miss Estes had walked smack into Joseph Penella, who was holding a violin and bow above his head and looking flustered. Had he seen her play the piano? Rafe smiled – Joseph would be a much better match for the young woman. Judging from the smitten look on his face, Joseph thought so too. And Miss Estes was staring up at the man in a similar fashion. One bride down, nine to go?
If Joseph was here with his violin, then his brothers couldn’t be far behind. Rafe wandered back to the parlor, nervous. Having to ask a woman to dance was going to be torture. He took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves and walked back to the library. By now Joseph and his brothers, Adam and Seth, were tuning their instruments. Soon the dancing would start and it would be only a matter of time before he’d have to deal with more embarrassment.
When the dancing started, Rafe was content to watch for the moment.
Not everyone, however, was content to let him. “Rafe, what are you doing hiding in a corner?” Chance asked.
“N-n-nothing much.”
Chance shook his head, his hands on his hips. “You aren’t going to make a good impression if you don’t get out there.” He took Rafe by the arm. “See that lovely little lady in the red dress?”
Rafe swallowed hard. It was the one that spoke to him earlier, the one that stumbled. “Mm-hmm.” If he didn’t open his mouth, he didn’t stammer.
“Well, don’t just stand there – go dance with her. No one else is.” Chance shoved him in her direction.
Rafe walked across the room, wondering if she’d laugh or run away when he asked her. But as he approached, he had a brainstorm. Just as he’d been thinking: if he didn’t open his mouth, he didn’t stammer! And wasn’t that the lesson of one of those Clear Creek stories his mother had told him at bedtime – specifically about the duke and a piece of advice given to him by a stranger. Sometimes the best thing to say to a woman is nothing at all. Therefore …
When he reached her he smiled.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said. “How do you do?”
Time to put the plan into action. He kept smiling, bowed and offered his hand.
She gasped, blushed but met his gaze – and more importantly, took his hand, letting him lead her to the dance floor. So far, so good. Now he just had to make sure he didn’t step on her feet.
“I’m afraid I don’t know your name,” she said as they began to dance.
Hm. This was an obvious weakness in the plan.
“Oh, I know I should. I mean, Mr. Redburn introduced everyone in the parlor this afternoon, but then you left with Myrakle and I … well, I didn’t leave with anyone actually.”
He arched and eyebrow.
She giggled. “That’s amazing – I can’t do that.”
He waggled both eyebrows.
She laughed, then stopped. “Mr. Adams! Now I remember.” Her face suddenly fell. “Oh, but you and Myrakle – I’m sorry, but …”
He shook his head.
“You mean it’s okay? You don’t mind that she wanted to be with Mr. Penella?”
He glanced at Joseph and back, smiled and shook his head more firmly.
She gushed with relief. “I’m so glad to hear that. You know, Myrakle was sweet on him the instant she saw him at the train station, when he came to tell us about poor Mrs. Redburn. We were all so disappointed to find that out – here we were, coming to Bent from all over the country, and we get here and it’s a mess, and Mr. Redburn – well, I’m sure he’s doing the best he can, but he’s like a bull in a china shop … anyway, back to Myrakle, she saw Mr. Penella and set her cap for him immediately. It happens like that sometimes, I hear. But … oh, dear.”
She stopped talking and bit her lower lip. Was something wrong? He wished she’d speak again. So long as she kept talking, he wouldn’t have to. He motioned with his hand for her to continue.
“Oh! You mean, you don’t mind me talking?”
Another firm head shake. As far as he was concerned, she could go on as long as she liked.
“Oh, what a relief. A lot of people tell me I talk far too much …” And she was off to the races again.
They continued to dance and Rafe discovered he wasn’t as rusty as he thought. He hadn’t danced since the last Fourth of July picnic he’d attended back home in Independence, Oregon. He was surprised to find he was having the time of his life with Miss …
… oh dear, he still didn’t know her name! And to find out he’d have to ask. Chance didn’t mention it, did he? No, he’d have remembered.
The music stopped and they stepped apart. Everyone clapped until it started again. People began to dance around them, and she looked at him in silent question. Was it proper these days to dance twice in a row with the same woman? He glanced around, and saw everyone still with the same partner, so it must be. He smiled, offered his hand again, she took it, and they resumed their dance.
No sooner had they started, she stumbled, righted herself, then giggled. To his utter surprise, Rafe found the action adorable. More surprisingly, he still found it adorable after the fifth time. And he didn’t have to say a word, just let her do the talking.
Chapter Six
Jasmine stared into Mr. Adams’ eyes, ice blue like the winter snow on the Colorado mountains. She loved looking at them. Also, every time she stopped, she tripped over her feet, or his. She was making such a fool of herself!
Thankfully he didn’t seem to mind much, and her sister brides were too busy dancing with their prospective suitors to notice. How many would become their grooms? It was obvious Myrak
le and Mr. Penella were sparking. She worried about Bertha, though. The woman came across as so … masculine. Where the other brides wore ball gowns, her dark dress looked more like a uniform. And she was more interested in building things than finding a husband. Jasmine wasn’t sure what to make of her.
She wondered why Mr. Adams hadn’t said a word. Was he nervous? Did he not have anything to say? Oh dear, was he mute? She’d talked a blue streak earlier. Maybe the only reason he was dancing with her a second time was because they were caught in the middle of the dance floor when the music started. Or maybe he didn’t want her standing by herself like a wallflower, took pity on her, and was enduring a second go.
She glanced up, stumbled. “Sorry. Again. I can’t seem to keep my feet.”
He smiled sympathetically but still said nothing. Just as well – she should keep her mouth shut too before she embarrassed herself. It was one thing to chatter on with her fellow brides, another when she was dancing with a gentleman. But didn’t Myrakle say there was something wrong with the man? She hadn’t been clear on what, though. In the excitement of transforming Myrakle into the belle of the ball, she’d talked and talked and talked as usual. Maybe it was just that her roommate had her cap set for Mr. Penella.
The music stopped. Mr. Adams led her off the dance floor, bowed again, then motioned toward the refreshment table. “Oh, no, I’m fine.” She watched him. Would he cut and run? That’s what most folks did after she started talking.
He smiled, looked into her eyes one last time, then turned and headed for the refreshments himself.
Jasmine sighed in relief. “My goodness, that was interesting.”
“You danced with Mr. Adams?”
She turned to find Cina, the young bride from Florida, standing next to her. “Yes. Twice.”
Cina covered her mouth and giggled. “How was it?”
Jasmine sighed. She must be referring to all her stumbling. “Awful on my part. He was a brick about it all, though.”
