The Rancher's Perfect Bride

by Caroline Clemmons

  Callum’s grin felt as wide as his face. “I have been. I sure hope each woman has a good disposition. I don’t want to be stuck with a harpy.”

  Andrew shook his head. “Me neither, otherwise one of us could have married bossy Elsa Drummond. Man, I wish their arrival was tomorrow.”

  “Won’t be long. Our cabins are ready. What more can we do?”

  “Callum, do you have a ring for your bride?”

  Callum slapped his forehead. “Dadgumit. I forgot to buy one. Forgot to talk to the preacher. Reckon we oughta turn around now. Might even get me a new shirt.”

  They waved to the supply wagon before they turned to ride back into town.

  Later in front of the mercantile, Callum stuffed his new shirt into his saddlebags. “I’d like to get here early enough on the day they arrive to have my boots polished over at the barber shop. Treat myself to a real close shave too.” He grinned, imagining rubbing his face against that of his bride’s.

  Andrew brushed his hand over the hair on his neck. “Ought to get a trim, too. Train comes in early, doesn’t it?”

  “One o’clock isn’t early. We’ll have plenty of time to get here and visit the bathhouse and barber.”

  “Bathhouse?” Andrew rubbed at his chin. “Guess we ought to. Women put a big store by cleanliness. At least, Ma always did.”

  Callum patted the pocket where he’d stored the ring for his bride. “Nice we could get them the same rings. Now one won’t be jealous of the other.”

  “Well, yours will be jealous ‘cause I’m better lookin’ and smarter and a better catch.”

  “Watch out, liar. Lightning will strike you dead.”

  Laughing, they mounted their horses and once again headed for their ranches.

  At his house, Callum surveyed the place as if seeing it for the first time. The house was only three months old. When had he let things go inside? Mud streaked the floor and spills spattered the new range.

  He was proud of the glass windows, but they were so dusty he could barely see through them. He grabbed a broom and started sweeping. Wouldn’t help much but he didn’t have time for more.

  Chapter Five

  Cottonwood Springs, May 18, 1888, Montana Territory

  Zenobia took down her bags. “I’m certain most of the train’s soot is on me and what used to be my gray traveling suit.”

  “I feel the same way. I don’t think I’ve been this grimy since I was a child and played in the mud. See, my brown traveling dress is the right color.”

  They left the train. On the platform, they stood a few seconds to look over the town. Only one building was brick and that was Jones’ Mercantile. The biggest building in sight was a saloon with peeling green paint.

  Dust swirled down the middle of the street as horses and wagons went in each direction. In wet weather the street must be a morass but there were board walks in front of many of the businesses. A café and a millinery store were within sight.

  Marcy nudged her. “I think those are our grooms.”

  Two handsome men headed their way. They had to be brothers and could almost have passed for twins. Each was over six feet tall with dark hair and blue eyes.

  The one she judged to be eldest held out his hand. “I’m Callum McFadden. Are you Miss Stanton?”

  “Yes, and this is my good friend, Miss Marcella Boyer.”

  The other man extended his hand. “I’m Andrew, the younger, better looking brother.”

  Both women laughed.

  Marcy said, “Everyone calls me Marcy instead of Marcella.”

  The men picked up their valises.

  Callum asked, “Do you have trunks to claim?”

  Zenobia handed him a stack of claim checks. “Quite a few. We brought a few things to wear and others to go into our homes.” She had split her treasures with Marcy—all the dishes her grandmothers had left her. She’d even managed to sneak in some of the things that had belonged to her mother as well as surplus linens.

  Zenobia doubted her stepfather would even notice, but she didn’t care if he did because they’d been given specifically to her. Marcy had protested, but Zenobia couldn’t visualize needing all she wanted to take with her. She simply didn’t want her stepfather’s new wife toss away the things.

  From the rumor mill, she had no doubt the man would soon remarry a wealthy widow, Mrs. Claudia Thorpe. Mrs. Thorpe had disliked Zenobia’s mother and was certain to discard anything her mother had ever used.

  Marcy spoke quietly while their trunks were loaded onto a farm wagon. “We are definitely lucky to have such handsome men.”

  “I’m relieved they seem so nice. I hope it’s not an act just for today.”

  After the trunks were loaded, the women joined Callum on the seat while Andrew sat on a trunk. She stared back and forth at each side of the town as they drove through. This was her new home and she was eager to learn everything about the place and its citizens. Although not large, Zenobia believed the town could provide whatever they needed.

  Callum looked at Zenobia. “Good thing we brought the big wagon and draft horses. Eight trunks and they’re heavy.”

  His comment worried her. “I hope you don’t mind that we have linens, dishes, and decorative items as well as clothing.”

  His wide grin reassured her. “I look forward to seeing them in our home.”

  She relaxed. “I’m glad. I know they were a problem to load.”

  The white church with a small steeple was at the opposite side of town from the train station but that wasn’t far. She could easily have walked from one end of town to the other. When they were parked, Zenobia pointed at a travel bag. “That has my wedding dress inside.”

  Marcy said, “Mine is in that valise.”

  The minister and his wife met them in front of the parsonage. She was a blond with graying at her temples. The minister was balding with a neat, small beard.

  “Welcome to Cottonwood Springs. I’m Pastor Shannon Moore and this is my wife, Kyla.”

  Kyla gestured toward her home. “Ladies, you can change clothes in here while the men go on to the church.”

  Inside the parsonage, the brides were shown into a small bedroom.

  The pastor’s wife appeared worried. “We’ve had two brides marry at the same time but never had two change clothes simultaneously. There’s warm water in the pitcher. I do hope you’re not too crowded.”

  Zenobia assured her, “After the train, this is heavenly.”

  Marcy set her bag on the floor. “Even standing up without swaying is a relief.”

  “Call out to let me know if I can do anything to help. If not, I’ll be preparing each of you a basket to take to your new home. I really believe a bride shouldn’t have to cook on her wedding day.”

  When the kindly woman had left, Zenobia removed her clothes. “A reprieve. No cooking this evening.”

  Marcy giggled. “Maybe we could kidnap Mrs. Moore and take her with us. We could share her.”

  “Nice idea but I suspect she and her husband would disapprove.” Zenobia held up her white dress. “Perhaps I should wear something else.”

  Marcy shook her finger at Zenobia. “No you don’t. This is your wedding dress made by the famous Madame Olga. I love the yellow taffeta she also made. In fact, I’ve always coveted that dress.”

  “You do look gorgeous in it, much better than I ever did. Good thing we can both sew. From what I saw of the women we passed on the street and the way the minister’s wife is outfitted, I suspect the dresses we own will be completely wrong for our lives now.”

  They were both ready when Mrs. Moore returned to check on them. “My, you girls do look precious. Your grooms are lucky, but then so are both of you. Those two are fine young men.”

  “That’s good news. They seem nice but we had no way of knowing if it was an act for today or behavior forever.” She recalled that the matchmaker had mentioned Pastor Moore’s letter of recommendation.

  Mrs. Moore fluffed Zenobia’s veil. “Have no fear
on that score.” She turned to Marcy. “I have a veil I loan to brides who don’t have one. Would you like to borrow it?”

  “Since Zenobia has one, I would like one also. We don’t try to be identical, but I don’t want Andrew to feel shortchanged.”

  “He certainly won’t. I’ve never seen lovelier brides and, believe me, in the twenty-five years we’ve been married I’ve seen a lot of women wed. Are you ready to go to the church?”

  Zenobia and Marcy exchanged smiles before Zenobia answered, “We are.”

  Mrs. Moore helped hold up Zenobia’s short train while Marcy gathered her own. The path to the church was lined with flat stones. Inside the church, Zenobia was surprised to see over a couple of dozen people seated. The two grooms stood at the front with the minister.

  Mrs. Moore retrieved two bouquets from a back pew and handed one to each bride. “The ceremony was announced in church on Sunday. People in town who can do so always attend weddings unless they’re told the event is private. Having guests makes the occasion even more special, don’t you agree?”

  Marcy clutched her bouquet. “That’s true but I’m surprised to see others here. We thought it would only be us and our grooms and the minister.”

  Zenobia marveled that her bouquet had daisies and pink roses and Marcy’s had daisies and yellow roses that matched her dress. “Are those men on the second pew cowboys who work on our grooms’ ranches?”

  “Yes, they are. Now, I hope you’ll excuse me but I have to go play the piano.” Mrs. Moore hurried to the front of the church and sat on the piano bench.

  The kindly lady played a hymn that Zenobia recognized, “Abide With Me”. The scent of roses surrounded Zenobia. Motes danced on the sun shining through the windows.

  The aisle was not wide enough for both of them to walk together so Marcy preceded Zenobia toward the front. The two men stared at them with what appeared to be awe. Pastor Moore smiled pleasantly at them as they approached.

  When they were side-by-side, Andrew took Marcy’s hand and Callum took Zenobia’s. Pastor Moore gave a brief sermon on the duties of husbands and wives to one another. Then he started reading the marriage ceremony from his Bible.

  He concluded with, “Callum McFadden, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to cling to her only, to honor her and cherish her in sickness and in health all the days of your life?”

  Callum’s deep voice sounded strong, “I do.” He looked into Zenobia’s eyes as he spoke.

  The preacher looked at Zenobia. “Do you, Zenobia Stanton, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love, honor, and obey in sickness and in health all the days of your life?”

  She was shaking so much she was grateful Callum held her hands. “I do.”

  Pastor Moore asked the same question of Andrew and Marcy.

  “Gentlemen, you may each kiss your bride.”

  Zenobia’s legs turned to pudding as Callum gently raised her veil and pushed it away from her face. He leaned down and gently brushed his mouth across hers. Tingles on her lips skittered down her body to her toes. Surely that was a good sign.

  She and Callum exchanged smiles. She wondered if he’d had a similar reaction to their brief kiss.

  Pastor Moore quietly said, “Please turn and face the congregation.”

  In his preaching voice, he added, “Friends, I present Mr. and Mrs. Callum McFadden and Mr. and Mrs. Andrew McFadden.”

  Zenobia was totally surprised when people applauded and several of the cowboys yelled, “Yee Haw!” This was nothing like the dignified wedding ceremonies she’d attended back in Atlanta. After she recovered from the shock, she had to admit she liked the friendliness of the other guests.

  A man carrying a tripod and what appeared to be a camera came up to them while they were still at the altar. “Hello, I’m David Lucas and you’ve probably guessed I’m a photographer. Shall I set up my camera to take photographs?”

  Callum looked at her and she nodded. She would love to have a photograph to remember the day.

  “We’d like that.” He turned to Marcy and Andrew. “How about you?”

  Andrew said, “I sure would like my photo taken with this gorgeous woman.”

  Mr. Lucas took a photo of each couple and then a picture of the four of them together. “You can pick these up next time you’re in town.”

  The two brides hurried to the parsonage to change into fresh traveling clothes. Their grooms waited on the front porch.

  Zenobia unfastened Marcy’s dress. “I can hardly believe we’re married. Now we truly are sisters.”

  Marcy stepped out of her dress. “I’m so glad because that’s how I’ve felt. As for the marriage, I can’t quite take it all in either. I was shocked when people applauded after the ceremony.”

  “So was I. Have you ever heard of such a thing? I believe manners are a lot different here than at home.”

  Marcy shook her finger at Zenobia. “This is home now.”

  “You’re so right. I do hope we like living here for we can never go back to Atlanta.” She thought of her old life then quit worrying. This was a fresh start. “We’d better go to the outhouse now.”

  “As we were returning, Mrs. Moore whispered for us to use the chamber pot that’s in here.”

  Each girl repacked her wedding dress and Marcy gently folded the veil she’d been loaned and placed it on the bed. When they were ready for their journey to their new home, they hugged Mrs. Moore.

  “Your grooms have your baskets in the wagon. Weather permitting, I hope to see you at church occasionally.”

  Zenobia said, “I’ll look forward to attending.”

  Marcy added, “You can be sure you’ll see us.”

  The two brothers hurried to get the valises and their brides. People lined the way from the parsonage to the wagon to wish them well. Soon, they were on their way out of town.

  Chapter Six

  Her groom’s scent teased Zenobia’s nostrils. He was freshly shaven and she smelled the bay rum he’d used. His Western boots had a high sheen and must’ve been polished just that morning. His black suit jacket fitted snugly so she suspected it was several years old. He wore a Western-style hat rather than the bowler she was used to seeing.

  “How long until we get to your ranch?”

  He grinned at her. “Reckon now it’s our ranch, Mrs. McFadden. Takes about two hours to get there. The hands went on ahead of us.”

  His correction sent warmth to her heart. “Are all of those men working on your ranch, I mean our ranch?”

  “Three are ours and three are Andrew and Marcy’s.”

  Marcy leaned forward. “If you don’t mind would you stop the wagon long enough for me to join Andrew on one of the trunks?”

  Callum reined in the horses and set the brake. Andrew hopped to the ground and came to help Marcy. He pulled a blanket from under the bench and laid it on top of one of the trunks.

  Andrew reached his hands around Marcy’s waist and swung her to the ground. When she’d walked a couple of steps he reversed the process and set her on the blanket-covered trunk. “Appreciate you thinking of this. I wanted us to talk.”

  Zenobia left them to their conversation. “Why don’t you point out features to me? Things that you especially like or that are not found in Georgia.”

  “You can see the forest but you’ll notice we never get what seems any closer to it. That’s because it’s quite a ways there. The mountains are even further. Andrew and I got the wood for the houses from the forest, though. Had to get permission, of course.”

  “So the house is made from logs?”

  “Most everything out here is but we squared off the logs for the cabins. They fit tighter so they’re warmer in winter and cooler in summer. I hope you’re not expecting the kind of house you were used to in Atlanta.”

  Zenobia wondered what he thought houses in Atlanta were like. “Have you been to Atlanta?”

  “Once, we went through there when we moved from South Carolina to Texas bef
ore we came up here. Andrew and I were kids then but I remember some of the houses we saw were big as hotels.”

  Zenobia knew he would classify her former home as one of those. “Are your parents alive?”

  He shook his head. “That’s why we left Texas. Our parents died of yellow fever and we decided to move where it was colder. Never heard of anybody having yellow fever up here.”

  “My parents are dead but my stepfather’s alive. He’s a terrible man and I’m glad to be far away from him.”

  He glanced her way. “You and Marcy been good friends for a long time?”

  “She’s my best friend but we’ve only known one another a couple of years. She helped me nurse my mother when my mother was ill. When Mama passed away, Marcy was a great comfort. That was just over six weeks ago.” She smoothed a hand across her lavender skirt. “Mama asked me not to wear black mourning clothes.”

  He ignored her explanation of her clothes. “Figured you must’ve known each other a long time to become mail-order brides together. Reckon sometimes you can know folks a little while and feel like you’ve known them all your life.”

  She smiled at him. “That’s exactly how it was with Marcy and me. I’ve felt as if she’s my sister even though we haven’t known one another all that long. I’m happy we really are sisters now. I know I can trust her and she knows she can trust me.”

  “That’s how I feel about Andrew. You have any brothers or sisters?”

  “I’m an only child but Marcy has several brothers and sisters. She’s already an aunt several times.”

  “When our parents died our younger brother Colin died too. He would’ve been twenty-one if he’d lived.”

  “No wonder you wanted to leave Texas and all that sorrow behind. I kind of feel that way about Georgia.”

  She looked upward. “The sky is so high here and such a deep blue. And, the air smells so fresh, fresher than any where I’ve been except the seashore.”

  He chuckled and sent her a wry glance. “What I remember about the Gulf seashore was the smell of dead fish and decaying seaweed.”