As they got underway, their new conductor walked up and down the length of the car, chatting with the various passengers and introducing himself. He seemed a mild-mannered man, with a small mustache and a kind smile. When he reached their row, he nodded. “Afternoon. My name is Wallace Dupree, and I’ll be riding with you from here to Topeka and on to Wichita. What brings you ladies out and about this lovely spring day?”
“We’re mail-order brides headed for the Lazy Q Ranch in Topeka,” Wynonna told him. “Are you familiar with it?”
“I am indeed,” he replied. Then his brow furrowed. “The Lazy Q, you say? I didn’t realize those fellows were contemplating matrimony. My congratulations to all of you.”
“Thank you,” Wynonna replied. “Can you tell us a little bit about the area?”
“Well, when you first get off, there’s a hotel right there called the Brody. It’s an ideal place to get something to eat or freshen up. I eat there almost every time I pass through—their cherry pie is my favorite,” he said with a smile. “If you realize you’ve forgotten something, there’s a general store up the road a short distance. As far as getting to the Lazy Q, are you being picked up, or are you arranging your own transportation?”
“I believe we’re being picked up,” Wynonna said. It had never occurred to her that they might have to find their own way to the ranch—that would be horrible.
“Excellent. It’s a fair distance out, so be prepared to settle in and enjoy the scenery. Welcome to Kansas, ladies, and let me know if there’s any way I can make the last sixty miles of your journey more comfortable.” He touched the brim of his cap and moved down the car, chatting with the people in the next seat.
Wynonna turned to her friends. “I just assumed we’re being picked up—what if we aren’t? Do you think we’ll be able to find a livery stable or . . . Oh, goodness. I don’t even know.”
“If these men don’t have the good sense to collect us, they don’t deserve to marry us,” Helen replied. “We’re going to be all right—you keep saying so yourself. You aren’t losing heart, are you, Wynonna?”
“I . . . I don’t think so,” she replied. “I’m just becoming more nervous the closer we get. If this doesn’t work, I’ll feel guilty forever—I dragged you out here when you didn’t even want to come, and now we’re not sure if we’re being picked up!”
Fiona reached over and put her hand on Wynonna’s arm. “Listen to me. I know you don’t like uncertainty—none of us do. But we’re in this together, and whatever happens, we’re going to be fine. If worse comes to worst, I know how to drive a rig, and I’ll get us to the ranch.”
Wynonna smiled to think of her pretty friend commanding a team of horses. She had no doubt she could do it. “Thank you. I’ll be all right—I just need to take a moment to breathe.” And perhaps she shouldn’t have conversations with train conductors who made her doubt herself. He was asking out of genuine concern, but it had unleashed all sorts of insecurities within her.
The train finally pulled into the Topeka station, and Wynonna gripped the arm of her seat as she craned to see out the window. “That tall building right there is the Brody Hotel,” the conductor announced as he walked up the aisle. “They serve hot food and will have you ready to go again in no time. We’ll be here for half an hour before we resume our journey, and we’ll blow the whistle prior to departure. Feel free to stretch your legs and get some fresh air. For those leaving us now, best of luck to you.”
Wynonna stood up and shook out her skirt, then turned and gave her friends a timid smile. “I suppose it’s time.”
Fiona looped her arm through Wynonna’s. “It’s time. Let’s go see who’s waiting for us on that platform.”
Chapter Five
“It’s been so long since I bought myself any new clothes, I don’t even know what I need,” Jack said, shaking his head. He and Sully had come into town to pick up the mail-order brides, but they arrived early so they could make themselves a bit more presentable. The other men had wanted to come, but a dam in the river had burst, causing a flood in the north pasture, and they were needed to divert the water and rebuild the structure before more damage was done.
“Well, for starters, shirt and pants,” Sully said. “I imagine some underthings as well, but those aren’t as visible when you’re meetin’ someone on a train platform.”
“I should hope not,” Jack replied with a chuckle. He was glad Mr. Appleby carried some ready-made clothes so he wouldn’t have to place an order with a tailor—that always made him feel awkward, which was part of why he didn’t buy clothes more often. “What color should I get?”
Sully chuckled. “You’re lookin’ to me for fashion advice?”
“Well, I don’t know anything about it!” Jack glanced around and spotted Alice, Mr. Appleby’s sixteen-year-old daughter, placing some candles on the shelf. “Miss Appleby, could you lend us your opinion?”
She turned and smiled. “Of course. How can I help you?”
“Well . . .” It was hard to explain the situation, so Jack decided to make it brief. “I need a new shirt, and I don’t know what color I should get.”
She studied his face, which he wasn’t expecting, and he found himself blushing under her scrutiny. “With your dark hair, you’d look nice in either red or blue,” she said at last. “But with your eyes, I’d most definitely choose the blue because the shirt would make your eyes look even brighter.”
“Hear that, Jack?” Sully said with a chuckle. “You have bright eyes.”
“Stop it, old man,” Jack grumbled, and Sully laughed.
“What about me, young lady?” Sully asked.
Alice turned her discerning gaze to him. “I’d choose the maroon for you,” she said. “It would bring out those roses in your cheeks.” She gave him a teasing grin, and he laughed again.
“Very well, I’ll take the maroon. If a man’s lucky ’nough to have roses in his cheeks, well, he should play up his best features, shouldn’t he?”
“That’s what I’ve always thought,” Alice agreed.
Choosing trousers wasn’t nearly as difficult. Jack just grabbed the first pair he saw that was in his size, and within a few minutes, everything he needed was piled on the counter.
“So, what’s the special occasion?” Alice asked as she began jotting down the purchases in her ledger.
That was the question Jack had been hoping to avoid. Sully, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any hesitation about sharing their business around town.
“We’re pickin’ up some mail-order brides,” he told her. “They’re comin’ in on the next train all the way from Philadelphia.”
Her hands paused. “Mail-order brides? My goodness. That’s certainly exciting. Who are the grooms?”
Sully clapped Jack on the shoulder. “Well, this here’s one of ’em, and then Big Mike, Tenny, Zeke, and Billy. Five brides for five grooms. Not a bad day’s work, eh?”
Alice looked startled, but she nodded. “That’s wonderful news. I can’t wait to meet them.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will soon enough—ladies like to shop.” Sully gave her a grin. “Plus, I’m sure the men will be wantin’ to show ’em off a little.”
“You have my congratulations,” Alice said warmly. She placed the clothing in the center of a square of brown paper, then folded everything up into a neat parcel. Jack cringed a little when he paid her—he’d already sent quite a lot of his savings off to that Miss Green woman to pay for his bride’s fare, and now here he was, spending more. How was a man ever supposed to get ahead when he couldn’t keep his money in his pocket?
“Have a good day, miss,” Sully said after he paid for his portion, and they stepped out of the general store and into the brilliant spring sunshine. “And now we’ll head over to the hotel and get ourselves a bath.”
The man who stared back from the mirror was a stranger. But then, Jack had to admit that he rarely looked at his reflection, so maybe he didn’t exactly know what he looked like an
ymore. He’d scrubbed from top to bottom and shaved, then combed his hair back. It hung a little lower on his neck than his grandmother would have liked, but things like that didn’t bother him much. He worked with horses, and they certainly didn’t mind.
He straightened the collar of his shirt, then gave himself a nod. That was as good as it was going to get, and he hoped he was presentable, at least.
Sully had cleaned up nicely as well, and as they stood on the platform waiting for the train, Jack had the thought that no one passing by would even recognize them.
A billow of smoke curled up into the sky as the train crested the small hill leading into town, and Jack’s stomach lurched. He wasn’t sure if it was excitement or some bad tinned meat.
“Now, it’s five young ladies travelin’ together, so we should spot ’em right off,” Sully said, nodding toward the train as the passengers began to disembark. “You nervous?”
“Nervous, terrified—kinda hard to tell the difference.” Jack chuckled. “Don’t suppose we can stick ’em back on the train and send ’em home, can we?”
“Now, that wouldn’t be a very gentlemanly thing to do.” Sully paused, then nodded toward the train again. “This has to be them.”
Jack took a deep breath, then turned to face the train. Five young ladies had just stepped onto the platform, looking around curiously. Two were brunettes, one had red hair, one was blonde, and one . . . Well, she nearly took Jack’s breath away. She was blonde, yes, but her hair was more the color of ripe wheat under a warm Kansas sky. It fell gently across her forehead like a kiss, then swooped around to the back where it was gathered up into some kind of bun or knot—whatever women called those fancy dos.
“Jack.”
He startled when Sully elbowed his arm. “Hmm?”
“Get yer jaw off the ground and let’s go introduce ourselves to these young ladies.”
“Oh. Yes. Let’s do that.”
He trailed Sully across the platform, wishing he could come up with some sort of proper greeting. He wasn’t usually shy, but for some reason, he’d sure rather slink back off to the wagon than walk up to them.
“Afternoon,” Sully said, tipping his hat. “Are you the young women sent this way by Miss Geraldine Green?”
“That’s right,” said the one Jack had been admiring. “Have you come to take us out to the ranch?”
“Sure have,” Sully replied. “I’m Sully Crenshaw, and this here’s Jack Milton. If you’ll show us your trunks, we’ll get ’em loaded for ya.”
“Thank you, Mr. Crenshaw. That’s very kind. I’m Wynonna Westcott, and these are my friends.” She went on to introduce them, but Jack stopped listening after she said her name. Wynonna Westcott. That was like a line of poetry, and she looked like a poem too.
“While we’re loadin’ up, would you care to step into the hotel and have somethin’ to eat?” Sully asked. “It’s a little bit of a drive to the ranch, so it’s best not to start out hungry. Just tell ’em to put it on Sully Crenshaw’s account.”
“Again, that’s very kind of you, Mr. Crenshaw,” Miss Westcott said. “I think we’d like that.”
She and the other girls walked across the platform, their skirts swishing on the wooden planks, and Jack watched them go until they were out of sight. “I don’t think we know what we got ourselves into, Sully,” he said, turning back to his friend. “Those are real young ladies—I mean, proper bred and everything. They won’t want anything to do with us.”
“Of course they’re real young ladies. You don’t think I sent away for any fakes, do you?” Sully shook his head. “Come on now—we’ve got some trunks to load up.”
They put everything they’d been shown into the back of Sully’s wagon, leaving Jack’s free for the actual passengers, then went inside the hotel for the second time that day. Mrs. Brody smiled when she saw them.
“My goodness, don’t you look nice! And I think I know why, too—are those young ladies your special guests?”
“That’s right, ma’am. We’re gonna have ourselves some weddings out at the Lazy Q.”
“You are? Oh, that’s wonderful. Would you like me to seat you at their table?”
“No, ma’am. We’re eager to get on the road so we’re back at the Q before dark. We’ll just wait here in the parlor, if that’s all right.” Sully reached into his pocket and took out some coins. “Here’s for their meals.”
“Thank you, Sully, and I’ll make sure they know where to find you.”
Jack and Sully took seats in the parlor. Jack tried to relax, but felt like he had Mexican jumping beans in his legs.
“That Mrs. Brody is a kind lady,” Sully said. “I sure do respect her.”
“Yes, she is,” Jack replied, coming to his feet again. He couldn’t help it—he started to pace, first looking out the window, then examining the pictures on the walls. He supposed the ladies not only wanted to eat, but to freshen up, and he couldn’t begrudge them that. He did want to be on their way, though—and to get these first awkward moments over with.
“Sit down,” Sully told him after a few minutes. “You’re workin’ yourself up into a lather.”
“Sorry.” Jack took his chair again. “I’m just edgy.”
“Well, that’s about as obvious as anything. Calm down, boy. Everythin’ will happen in its own due time, and we’ll be glad for how it worked out in the end.”
Jack forced himself to sit still, but rubbed his thumbs and forefingers together, needing some way to work off his energy. When at last the young ladies entered the parlor, he jumped to his feet, feeling like a coiled spring. “I hope you enjoyed your meal,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, we’re quite ready,” Miss Westcott replied, and the others nodded.
“Right this way.” Sully opened the door and made a grand gesture with his arm.
They all trailed out of the building, and Sully pointed to the two wagons waiting out front. “That rig there has all your belongin’s, and that one there is for you ladies,” he said. “Let’s climb aboard and be on our way.”
Jack thought he saw an expression of horror flicker across Miss Westcott’s face, but he must have imagined it because then she was all smiles. “Yes, by all means. Let’s be on our way,” she said, taking the lead and marching toward the passenger wagon, her head held high.
***
The meal at the Brody was delicious, and exactly what the girls needed. Hot, flavorful food—with lots of pie—and they were set to rights again.
“I wish we could stay the night here before riding out to the ranch,” Cora said after swallowing her last bite. “I’m so tired of being in motion.”
“I am too, but right now, I’m just grateful that the ranchers did send some men to meet us,” Wynonna replied. “They look a little rough, but they’re polite, and I’m sure they’ll take good care of us.”
They walked out to the lobby, where the proprietress smiled and welcomed them to town, then showed them to the parlor, where their two escorts were waiting.
Wynonna wasn’t sure what she’d expected when it came to their transportation to the ranch, but when she saw the wagon they’d be riding in, she was dismayed. It was little more than a supply wagon with a few wooden planks set up to function as benches—no actual seats, no canopy to keep them from the sun. It was so very rustic, but as she reminded herself immediately, she’d come to the west because she wanted to see what frontier living was all about. She imagined that when the ranchers took them out to church or whatnot, there would be nicer buggies, and she’d look forward to seeing those when the time came.
With a hand up from the driver, the girls climbed into the wagon, and then arranged their skirts. Wynonna was about to climb up after them, but the driver . . . whose name she couldn’t remember . . . cleared his throat. “Miss Westcott, there’s room on the driver’s seat next to me, and I’d be honored if you chose to sit up there.”
Wynonna hesitated. It did look more comfortable than where her friends wer
e sitting, and that created a conundrum. She didn’t want special treatment at her friends’ expense, but she would like a better seat and a clearer view of where they were going. “Thank you,” she said after a moment’s pause. “I’d be delighted.”
He grinned, and she noticed that he had a rather nice smile. “Let me give you a hand up. That seat’s a bit higher than the others.”
She walked around the side of the wagon and saw what he meant. That seat was nearly eye level—just how was she expected to get up there?
“Just grab on to that strap,” the driver said, “and put your left foot here.” He motioned to the hub of the wheel. “Then step here with your right foot, and grab on to that strap with your other hand.”
“I don’t think they designed this with ladies in mind at all,” Wynonna told him. “Perhaps if I were wearing trousers . . .”
His face went bright red, and she chuckled, feeling bad for embarrassing him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t always think before I speak.”
“That’s all right, ma’am. If you’d rather ride in the back, that’s fine—I’ll help you up next to your friends.”
Wynonna shook her head. She wasn’t the sort to back down from a challenge, and if this was part of frontier living, she’d manage it. “No, I want to give it a try. You have to promise to catch me before I tumble into the dirt, though.”
“Ma’am, you have my solid promise that you will not tumble into the dirt.”
“All right, I’m ready.”
Wynonna glanced back at her friends, who were watching with smirks on their faces. “You don’t think I can do this, do you?” she asked.
“We’re a little skeptical, but we’ll reserve judgment until we see,” Helen replied, and they all laughed.
Wynonna turned back to the driver. “You must know, I’m not one of those squeamish sorts who will be offended if you have to grab my arm or . . . do other things . . . to boost me up there. I understand that we’re working against the laws of gravity, and that certain allowances must be made.”
He nodded, his face still a little pink. “Duly noted, ma’am, and I vow not to take advantage of your understanding.”
A Wrangler for Wynonna Page 4
