by Jo Noelle
His brother Boone was always hiring someone new. On a big spread like theirs, a few cowboys moseyed off after the payroll, but others showed up, looking for work, and they had plenty of that. Boone was in charge of keeping the bunkhouse full.
“What do you need?” Waylon asked the man as Benita fidgeted on his arm, glancing repeatedly toward the two lines of the reel that were forming.
“Your brothers have a trail on those rustlers.”
The ranch had some trouble out on the far north section. Two weeks ago, their hands had counted a hundred Herefords. It took a few days to ride over more than twelve hundred acres, but this week, they’d found only eighty in that section.
“They sent a couple of cowboys out to check the west pasture as well.”
Waylon reprimanded himself that part of him was glad to get on his horse instead of twirl around the town dance. In his next thought, his gut twisted. He’d dealt with rustlers before, and it could be deadly business. Many of his neighbors were still dealing with them. He had hoped that his closest neighbor to the west, Royce Clark, had put an end to it when he brought down Jasper White’s rustlers. Rustlers could bring a big operation to its knees in days. If they didn’t put a stop to this now, he might not have a ranch come spring.
The man continued, “We have some good tracks this time—clean tracks. The cattle are moving fast. If we hurry, we can catch them.”
Waylon nodded, thinking this might be the best chance they'd be given. Every other time the rustlers had attacked, a storm had washed their tracks away. If Waylon could catch up to them, he could put an end to this bad business. Guilt pushed up through his chest. He would do what needed to be done—again. Waylon accepted that meant he would never be fit for the company of a good woman. At that thought, his eyes found the new woman. She was accepting a dance. For a split second, he wished it was with him.
“The dance is about to start.” Benita tugged Waylon’s arm toward the sets of dancers forming.
If he stayed for the next dance before he left, he’d be able to meet the new miss again as the couples moved down the line in turn. It was an enticing prospect and therefore a very bad idea. Good reason to leave.
“Pardon me, miss. I won't have the opportunity to dance with you this evening. My apologies.” Waylon looked around the room for Benita’s parents. He began walking her across the room. “You can stand with the other ladies until your folks are free.”
“Why? What did that man tell you?” She pointed at the cowboy.
Of course, she had heard what they said, but still her facial expression told Waylon she thought he was making it up. The three of them continued across the room as the fiddle began playing a Virginia reel.
“I demand that you tell me why you’re leaving me. What did that man say?” She glanced over her shoulder to where the vaquero was following. “And since when do you speak Spanish?”
“I don’t.”
Benita pulled Waylon to a stop a few feet from his destination. “Waylon, he spoke Spanish, and so did you. I didn’t understand a single word.”
Waylon wondered what kind of craziness this woman was talking. He paused, considering her words, then shook them off.
He looked toward the cowboy, who now stood beside him with a huge grin. “She thinks we’re talking Spanish,” Waylon said.
The cowpoke nodded and chuckled. “Sí.” His eyes sparkled, obviously enjoying the joke.
Benita stamped her foot, sending her brown ringlets swaying. Then she threw Waylon’s arm away from her and walked briskly toward her parents.
“Go get our horses ready,” Waylon told the man. “There are some saddlebags packed for me in the tack room. Grab those too. I’ll be out in a minute.” The man left, and Waylon turned toward his mom.
He knew she wasn't going to believe whatever he said about needing to leave in the middle of the celebration. By the time he stepped up, Benita was hanging onto his ma’s arm, slumping like a wounded rabbit.
“Ma, I gotta go.”
His mother looked displeased, her arms crossed in front of her without blinking her eyes. That’s the kind of look she wore when he was a kid, and she’d tell him to go fetch a switch.
He hurried to explain. “Some rustlers have been out looting the west range. They’ve taken another twenty head of cattle on top of those we lost last week.”
The disappointment drained out of her expression, replaced by anger. She had been a rancher’s wife long enough to know that if you leave cattle rustlers to their business without chasing them down, you lose your whole business.
His mother’s head swung toward the new miss who was now dancing the Virginia Reel. Then she nodded toward him. “Be careful, son.” Her hand rested and tightened on Waylon’s arm. “I guess you can meet Vivian Leete when you get back. I brought her home with me today.”
“I’ll be careful. My horse is ready. I'll be back in a week or two if we don’t find them. If we catch them, it will take a little longer to get them to the marshal before we come back.” He’d already met that little gal, and he’d just as soon not think about her again.
Waylon kissed his mom on the cheek, and tipped his hat to Benita. Over both of their shoulders, the dark-haired Miss Leete swung in her partner’s arms.
He left the barn. The dance continued behind him. He was a good ways down the road before he could no longer hear the music or imagine the swish and swirl of the new gal in the yellow dress.
Waylon took a cleansing breath, glad to be away from Benita. He was glad to have missed the introduction to Miss Leete as well. A small part of him was disappointed, too, but he’d push that feeling right out with some hard riding.
Rustlers—he could deal with. He had before. But the pressure from unmarried women and the encouragement from his mother—he didn’t want to take that trail.
Chapter 3
Vivian Leete
Vivian woke to a crisp and bright morning. She opened her eyes and was struck with the beautiful bedroom she’d been given, her eyes taking in the floral wallpaper of delicate sprigs of pink blossoms scattered between larger bouquets of red, pink, yellow, and blue. This was something she’d never experienced in her life. She’d never had a room to herself nor a bed of her own, for that matter. Waylon’s home, at least the little she’d seen so far, was a castle, and Waylon, a prince in leather boots. How would she fit into a wealthy man’s life?
Her chance meeting with Seffi had made her nervous. Why hadn’t her future husband met her at the station? It was a relief to know that he had at least told his family about the mail order arrangement.
After Seffi got her into the house last night, she’d set up a bath for her, even loaning her one of her own party dresses.
Vivian slipped out from under the heavy quilt and hurried over to the clothespress. Her hand touched the smooth yellow silk. For a few hours, she had worn this dress and felt she was a princess as well. Her hand pushed the skirt aside and retrieved the gray wool dress she’d worn on the train. She’d washed it and hung it last night before dressing for the dance. She pulled it on this morning and went downstairs to the kitchen.
“I didn’t expect you up so early,” Seffi said as she walked in.
“I thought I might be of some help,” Vivian answered.
“Well, I’ve decided to make a quick trip to Creede today. The weather’s been so nice, and I’d like to store up a few more things before the snow gets serious.”
As they bumped along in the sleigh, Seffi asked, “How did you get matched up with my Lon?”
“I suppose by luck. The men wanting wives write to the Brides Train Matrimonial Service. Then they choose brides to send. I just happened to be there on the right day.”
“That’s quite a gamble you both took, isn’t it?”
“The matrimonial company didn’t say we must marry. I’m here to get to know him, and he, me. Then we can decide if the arrangement will work.”
“Of course it will work out. You’re lovely. He’s wonder
ful. And soon I’ll be a grandmother.” Seffi patted Vivian’s shoulder. “Don’t think on that last part. You’ve got time to make your decision.” The women rode silently as the skids swooshed over the frozen road.
“You didn’t bring many things with you,” Seffi said.
Embarrassment pricked at Vivian, and her gaze dropped. Her hands smoothed the gray fabric of her dress. “This is all I have.”
“Don’t let that bother you. We’ll stop at the dry goods store. They might have some pre-made dresses I can buy for you.” Seffi prattled on about the store. “It used to be strictly dry goods, but with Creede’s population booming, it started carrying various grocery items and anything else the owners thought might improve their profit.
“I can’t let you buy me clothes. It’s too much,” Vivian replied. She’d never had a ready-made anything. It seemed extravagant to her.
“Nonsense. I never had a little girl to dress.” Seffi clapped her hands. “This will be so fun.”
Crowther’s Dry Goods stood on the other side of the Creede telegraph office, which was next to the train station. Seffi hurried them into the store and rushed to the counter where a clerk waited. “Mr. Miller, I’d like you to meet Miss Vivian Leete. She’s a friend of the family and will be staying out at the ranch for a bit.” They exchanged pleasantries, and Seffi quickly pointed out some fabrics and notions to have sent with the ranch’s order that she’d dropped off the day before. They took a coat and two dresses with them, and ordered two more as well as a nicer one for church.
“Are the Crowthers here now?” Seffi asked the clerk.
“No. They left for dinner, but they’ll be back soon,” he answered.
When the women left the store, they only took a few steps and met a pastor with a box of knitted socks in his arms.
“Let me get that for you.” Seffi opened the door for him and then followed him back inside.
“Good afternoon, Reverend Bing. I’d like you to meet Miss Vivian Leete. My dearest friend.”
He set the box on the counter. “Good to meet you, Miss Leete.”
Seffi turned to Vivian. “This is Reverend Bing. He’s the pastor in Bachelor.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” After the dance last night and meeting people today, Vivian felt as if she were becoming part of a community. Her life had been so limited since leaving England, and she’d only met the women in the sewing house.
“Can I do anything for you ladies?” he asked.
With excitement, Seffi said, “Not just yet, but soon. Miss Vivian Leete is a special friend of Waylon’s.”
The pastor’s eyebrows lifted, making his pleasant face look delighted. “That is wonderful, miss. May I say that your accent is as lovely as you are? England, isn’t it?”
“Originally, yes. London.”
“I’m happy for your family, Mrs. Morgan. Good news, that. Yes, sir, good news.” Then to Vivian, he said, “We have several new brides you’ll meet at church.”
Vivian replied, “See you Sunday.” It would be exciting to meet the other young brides.
Seffi turned on her heel and led Vivian out the door and across the street. “We don’t have much time if we’re going to be home before dark. Once we get out to the ranch, we won’t see these folks but on Sundays when the weather is good unless we make a special trip to town.”
Vivian smiled and replied, “I’m so pleased to meet your friends.”
“They’ll be your friends, too.”
Her smile widened and happiness shot through her.
Seffi approached three women who were chatting on the boardwalk. “Millie, Julianne, Beatrice, I’d like you to meet Waylon’s intended. This is Vivian Leete.” Then to Vivian she said, “Miss Millie Bing is the reverend’s sister. Mrs. Julianne Fontaine is the school teacher, and Mrs. Beatrice Jameson is the wife of the telegraph operator.”
The chubby baby in Beatrice’s arms cooed at her as her plump fingers fisted around her mother’s extended finger. Vivian wondered if she might have a sweet cherub like that one day. She dearly hoped so.
“And this is Sally.” Beatrice twisted, so Vivian could see the baby’s face. “We’re pleased to meet you.”
Vivian felt longing in her chest. There had always been little ones at the orphanage to love and hug. Oh, she had missed that the past two years. If there were more young mothers here, their children would play and grow together.
“I’m sure my brother invited you to service, but just in case, we’d be pleased to see you,” Millie said. A boy walked past the group, drawing her attention away. “Hello, Willie,” she called.
The boy stopped and waved.
“Say hello to your ma for me. I was sure happy to see Nora out to Sunday services this last week.”
“I will.”
“How’s your family, Willie?” Seffi asked. “And your mother?”
“Fine, thank you, Mrs. Morgan.”
“Say hello to Nora for me, too. I hope to see her soon.”
“Yes, ma’am. And you just might.” The boy grinned and then walked away.
Vivian felt something she had never imagined. She was part of a community who knew each other and cared for each other. She was so happy she had gone with Julia to meet the organizer for the Brides Train Matrimonial Service.
Seffi bid the ladies goodbye and called to another woman across the street. “Mrs. Jackson, do you have a minute?” When they reached the woman, Vivian was a little out of breath. Waylon’s mother walked fast. She was a fireball. “Vivian, this is Mrs. Jackson. Toria is a new bride who moved here a few months ago. Her husband owns the mercantile.”
The race continued as she was introduced to anyone Seffi knew on the street that day. While buying a sack of beans and another of oats from Mr. Jackson at the mercantile, Seffi introduced Vivian as Waylon’s fiancée. Outside the hotel down the street, she said Vivian was her soon-to-be daughter-in-law.
Vivian’s heart was as full of happiness as it had been with fear a day ago—she had family and friends.
“Mrs. Morgan. Woohoo. Mrs. Morgan.” A beautiful young woman called after them as they walked away from the hotel.
Under her breath, Seffi muttered, “Gossip runs faster than a wild colt around here.” She pulled Vivian a little closer. As the woman neared, she said, “Hello, Benita. We were just going back over to the dry goods store to see your parents. You can walk with us.”
Benita stared at Vivian, looking her up and down, and then again with a scowl but didn’t move a step. “Are you her?” she asked with clipped words. “Are you Waylon’s bride?”
Vivian hesitated and blinked several times. Mixed feelings reeled through her. Her eyes flicked to Seffi. She didn’t know what to say. “I...”
Mrs. Morgan replied, “She will be very soon. It was a surprise to have her come, but of course I’m happy that—”
The young woman shrieked. Her face turned purple, and her fingers splayed like tree branches. Then she ran away.
“—Waylon’s decided to settle down,” Seffi finished as if the woman was still there. To Vivian, she said, “Well, that’s done. She had to find out sometime. I’m just glad I ordered up our groceries yesterday.” Seffi and Vivian watched as the young woman entered the dry goods store and slammed the door behind her. “You can meet her parents next time we come to town. It’s probably not a good time just now.”
What had happened? “Did she have an expectation about Waylon?” Vivian asked, her mind clouded and uneasy. She wanted to hear that the girl didn’t.
“No.” Seffi patted her arm. “Well, she might have thought…and that was all me. Waylon hadn’t been involved yet. She’s young and pretty. She’s fine—or she will be.”
The women walked together silently until they climbed into the wagon. “Waylon will be back in a week or so, and then you can get on with the courting and marrying and baby business. Until then, you and I can get acquainted.”
Vivian felt deep gratitude for the woman who would welco
me her into her heart and her home, knowing that she was desperate enough to travel clean across a country to find a family. She was also grateful that Lon—Waylon—had mentioned ordering a bride to his mother, and it must have been divine intervention that brought his mother to the boardwalk that day to find her.
Seffi grabbed both of Vivian’s hands and gave a gentle squeeze. “I'm so happy to have a daughter-in-law.” She picked up the reins, gave them a little shake, and the horses moved along.
She chatted with Vivian all the way home. It took about an hour to travel the ten miles from Creede to their home in Topaz, but the time passed quickly in Seffi’s company. The road led right to the front of the home. In full daylight, it looked like a mansion with several windows on each level. A balcony extended across the entire face of the house on the second floor, creating a veranda below it. How nice will it be to walk out of the house but not right into snow on a winter day?
As they pulled to a stop in the yard, Seffi asked, “Do you ride well, dear?”
“No, ma’am. I've never even been on a horse.”
“We’ll have to remedy that. We’re horse people. We ride them hard and follow cattle.” Seffi turned the horses away from the house and stopped at the barn instead. “You can start your lessons tomorrow.” Seffi got out of the wagon, and Vivian scrambled out the other side. The women walked into the barn and were met by a man. He tipped his hat and continued toward the barn.
“Blake?”
The man turned back toward Seffi. “Yes, Mrs. Morgan?”
“I’ll be teaching Miss Leete to ride in the mornings. Please saddle Daisy for me and Miss Ruth for my guest.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll see to the buckboard and horses now.” He tipped his hat and continued out.
Seffi walked beside Vivian back to the ranch house. “Miss Ruth will be a nice, gentle horse, good tempered. Before you know it, you'll be riding that monster Lon likes to ride.”
Although Vivian didn’t want to say it, she felt the words burning to get out. “What if…if we don't marry? What if he takes a look at me and decides I'm not the bride for him?” She didn’t want the answer. Although she’d spent only an afternoon with Seffi, she wanted to continue their friendship.
