"Looks like that's going to be me,” said Jack.
"I expect to see at least half the front side of the house done when I return, Mr. Arbol-Smith,” Kristin called over her shoulder.
"Then you'd best go on your honeymoon before comin’ back here,” he replied.
Kristin knew there'd be no honeymoon. If the groom didn't run now, he'd run later.
Kat, who was walking beside her, across from Ingrid, glanced at Kristin with a frown. “You are willing to do this, aren't you?"
"Of course,” Kristin replied. “Who would not want to marry a rich and handsome man who will support her in the style to which she was accustomed before he ripped her old life away from her.” She said it loudly enough so that Jack Cameron would hear and realize that, just like Minna, she coveted his money.
"My sister was certainly anxious for such a marriage. What a misfortune for the female race that there are not two Mr. Camerons, or ten, or fifty.” Kristin heard Jack, who was walking with Connor, mutter something under his breath. She hoped it was a reconsideration of the marriage. She did hope that, didn't she? Kristin was distracted in her moment of doubt by the voice of Augustina, who was bringing up the rear with her husband.
"Stop staring at them,” said Augustina.
"I wasn't staring at both of them,” said Sean.
"No, of course not. You were staring at your ex-wife."
"I don't believe I am an ex-wife,” said Ingrid.
Augustina burst into tears.
"I notice that you have not brought the children,” said Kristin. “Is this too shocking an event for them?"
"It seems to be getting that way,” said Kat dryly.
"Have you looked into the Oro?” asked Connor from behind them. “Barney Ford owns a big piece of that one, and it promises to be a winner."
"Really? Do they need financing?” asked Jack.
"Be careful how you spend our money,” warned Kristin. “You'll have a wife to support in about a half hour."
"Don't you dare buy into anything with him, Connor,” said Kat. “I don't know how you can bear to be friends with such a scoundrel."
"Enough of this quarreling,” said Maeve. “It's unseemly in a wedding procession."
"St. Mary's used to be there,” said Kat, pointing to the old site of the church. “Do you remember, Ingrid?"
"How could I forget?” said Ingrid, surprised to be addressed by her former sister-in-law. “It's the coldest church I ever sat in."
"Probably the only one you ever sat in,” said Maeve.
"My family went to church,” retorted Ingrid.
"Are you planning a wedding reception for us, Mrs. Macleod?” Kristin asked.
"Certainly not,” said Maeve. “This is hardly an occasion for celebration—more in the nature of a necessity."
"What a shame to have one's nuptials slighted,” said Kristin. “With the attitude you're taking, Mrs. Macleod, I'll hardly want to remember them. But then, no one can consider me fortunate in my bridegroom."
"I resent that,” said Jack. “Everyone's making me out to be the villain, although I've agreed to this marriage and with little cause to do so."
"Little cause!” exclaimed Maeve. “You are indeed sunk deep in debauchery, sir."
By that time they had arrived at St. Mary's. Father Boniface Wirtner, standing in front of the church, heard the last remark. “Which one of you is the bridegroom?” he asked.
"I am,” said Jack, “the one they all consider a debaucher."
"And I,” said Kristin, “am the debauchee. Shall we get on with this before the whole group comes to blows?"
Father Boniface Wirtner looked quite shocked. “Have you lost your virtue to this man, Miss Traube?"
"I have,” said Kristin.
"She hasn't,” said Jack.
"How can you tell lies on your own wedding day?” asked Maeve. “The Holy Mother will never forgive you."
"I imagine the Holy Mother will be casting a hard eye on you, Mrs. Macleod, for slandering my good name."
"Perhaps we'd better leave the Holy Mother out of this,” said Father Boniface Wirtner. “I am not sure that I should perform this ceremony. No banns have been posted. The two potential celebrants of the sacred rites do not seem to be—"
"When a sin has been committed, Father, it must be made right,” said Maeve, fixing him with a hard eye.
"Are you willing to go through with this, young lady?” asked Father Boniface Wirtner.
"If he is,” said Kristin. She slanted Jack a glance.
Jack said, “I'm willing if she is,” as if daring her to actually marry him.
Maeve went on tiptoe and whispered fiercely into the priest's ear.
"Very well,” he muttered, “let us go inside the church.” Then he spotted Sean. “I'll want to talk to you after the ceremony, Mr. Fitzpatrick. I've been hearing the most appalling rumors about bigamy."
"He's guilty,” said Ingrid.
"Who are you? The bride's sister?” asked the priest.
"No, I am the bridesmaid, and Mr. Fitzpatrick is my husband."
"That is a serious charge, madam,” said the priest.
"It's not true,” said Sean. “I divorced her legally."
"The church does not recognize divorce."
"We weren't married in the church."
"Then the church does not recognize the marriage."
Ingrid burst into tears. “I was tricked,” she said.
"I'm the one who was tricked,” said Augustina.
"I'm the one upon whom the most trickery was practised,” said Kristin. “No gentleman pours brandy into an inexperienced, eighteen-year-old girl."
Father Wirtner's eyebrows rose into his hairline. “Are you with child, young woman?"
"How would I know?” Kristin responded. “I don't look like a pickle barrel, so I would think not."
"You could have asked me,” said Kat. “I would have been happy to instruct—"
"Well, I was embarrassed. Who wants to talk about such things? I hardly think it's seemly for the good Father to mention it at this time or any other."
"Who else would one speak with about sin if not one's priest?” said Father Boniface Wirtner.
"Oh, for heaven's sake,” said Jack. They were now at the altar. “Let's get this over with, shall we?"
"What a charming groom you make,” said Kristin, and the wedding ceremony was performed, Maeve keeping the priest under a threatening eye.
"Do I get to kiss the bride?” Jack asked Father Boniface Wirtner when the ceremony was over.
"No,” said Kristin, turned around, and marched out of the church on Ingrid's arm.
"He's a handsome fellow,” said Ingrid, “and rich if what they say is true. You haven't done badly for yourself. Of course, this may be the same kind of trickery Sean practiced on me. Maybe you're not married at all."
"I don't care if I never see him again,” muttered Kristin.
"My goodness, you're a peculiar woman,” said Ingrid. “Men are real pleasant, especially in bed."
"Not in mine,” said Kristin, who was walking up hill as fast as she could, trying to stave off tears, thinking that this was not the wedding of which she'd dreamed, although it need not have been so awful, not if Jack had an ounce of consideration.
The Macleods and the Fitzpatricks murmured uneasily among themselves. The bridegroom tried to look amused. The priest, who had never seen the bride leave on the arm of the bridesmaid without saying another word to anyone, turned to Maeve Macleod and said, “For your sins—"
"What sins?"
"Threatening a priest."
"Mother, what did you say to him?” cried Kat.
Chapter Ten
Kristin looked at herself in the long, clouded mirror that had been left behind by the mansion's previous owners. At the sight of her hat, she burst into tears. If she'd believed she was actually to be married, she'd have chosen a better hat; she'd have changed her dress. Pink was not her color! And she was wearing a wash dre
ss—green with slate-blue paint spots she hadn't noticed until now.
At least there were no photographs of the wedding party with her looking like a housemaid and Jack in his fine morning coat. Then it occurred to her that Jack would now leave, and she'd have no photograph of him, only that awful portrait. And he had looked handsome this morning. He'd even shaved off his mustache. Crying harder, she threw herself on the bed. In no time her eyes would match the pink flowers on her wretched hat.
"You going after her?” asked Connor.
Jack shrugged. “Later is soon enough. Let's go see Barney Ford about the Oro.” Jack was very irritated with his bride. He'd married her, hadn't he? Given up a lot of money to do it. They should have been drinking champagne in a honeymoon suite or at least taking a train that would deliver them to a honeymoon suite. Instead he was heading for the Saddle Rock Cafe. He'd have dinner with Connor and Barney Ford, a Negro. Jack had never done business with a Negro. And a man shouldn't be doing business on his wedding day or spending his wedding night at home. Kristin probably didn't even have a double bed for the occasion.
Kristin mopped her eyes and got up when she heard the knock on her door. What if it was Jack? Her heart gave a little flutter. Then she considered how embarrassing it would be if he realized that she'd been crying.
"You all right?"
Ingrid, not Jack. “Fine,” Kristin replied in a quavering voice.
"Maybe we should make some dinner. He'll probably be back pretty quick."
"I imagine he's already on the train to Chicago,” said Kristin.
Ingrid muttered something; Kristin couldn't tell what. “You want some dinner?"
"I'm not hungry.” Kristin straightened her dress, hastily wet a cloth in the basin, and held it against her swollen eyes. “I have a headache,” she called to Ingrid.
"That must set the record for wives with headaches,” said Ingrid.
What did that mean?
"Guess I'll go make some sausages."
Kristin could hear Ingrid's footsteps on the stairs. Would he come to say good-bye before he left town? she wondered. She had been rude. But then, he hadn't even bothered to be charming.
"Mr. Cameron!"
Jack tried to look as if he'd heard what the lawyer said.
"The man's newly married, Charlie,” said Connor jovially. “I didn't touch ground for six months after I married Kat."
"There are those who think you still haven't, Connor,” said Sean.
"Sounds like a good provision to me,” said Jack. He'd lose his shirt on this deal if he didn't stop thinking about Kristin and pay attention.
She couldn't even look at the portrait of Jack, so she spent the afternoon, all dressed up in an emerald silk dress in case he came back, painting from memory the stream near the cottage where the Traubes had gone in the summer. Those had been happy days, at least when Mama let her sit at stream-side watching the fish.
She'd never painted fish as seen through running water. It was an engrossing project. Not a success, but interesting. Reflections of sunlight and trees. Distortions of form caused by the water. She almost managed to convince herself that she wasn't wondering where Jack was, what he was doing and thinking. The priest had married them. Her name was cleared. What now? She knuckled a tear away and dabbed yellow flecks of sunlight around her fish.
"Feel like eating something?” Ingrid asked from the doorway.
"Why not?” said Kristin and put her brushes away.
They sat at the table in the kitchen, picking at bread and the sausage Ingrid had made that afternoon.
"It's good,” said Kristin, “for sausage.” She could see that Ingrid felt sorry for her.
"I say we see the bridegroom home,” said Connor. “Have a shivaree."
"The bridegroom has to go to the hotel and pack up,” said Jack. “How about letting me stand you to a drink, in return for which you'll let me go home by myself?"
The men headed for the Miner's Home Saloon. “Nobody better tell my sister that Connor had a drink,” said Sean. He turned to Jack, grinning. “Marriage is hell."
"I hope not,” said Jack, who rather thought he'd like it. He estimated that he'd now stayed away from the Fleming house long enough to worry his rebellious bride. Time to go home and reap the rewards accruing to a man who'd done his gentlemanly duty and won a beautiful girl in doing it.
"You plan to live in my house?” gasped Kristin. Several hours ago, she'd given up thinking he'd come to say good-bye.
"Certainly,” said Jack. He directed the deposit of his possessions in the entrance hall by an unemployed miner glad to get the work. “Or would you rather I bought us another house. You can use this for—"
"This is my house and my place of business. I intend to live here,” said Kristin.
"Very well, we'll both live here.” He paid the fellow off and urged him out the door before the conversation deteriorated into a squabble.
"No one invited you,” said Kristin.
"I'm your husband. We'll be sharing a house, not to mention a bed."
"We certainly will not.” He'd stayed away to pay her back for walking off without him at the church. “You will never share my bed,” she cried resentfully. “I have been dishonored by you once, and I don't intend to let you anywhere near me ever again."
"Kristin,” said Jack, “I don't know what you think happened in that library, but I did not dishonor you. I kissed you; that doesn't constitute dishonor, at least not among sensible people."
"It doesn't?"
"Of course not."
"Then why did my father throw me out of the house?"
"I'm not sure he did. It seems he meant to frighten you and then let you stay."
"But Lottie and Genevieve thought I might be with child."
"From a kiss? That's impossible."
"Am I still a virgin?"
"Well, you must answer that yourself.” He lit one of the hanging lamps in the hall since they were talking in semi-darkness. “If you're not a virgin, it has nothing to do with me."
"I didn't have to marry you?"
"I've tried to tell everyone that, but no one would believe me, including you."
"Well, you might have stated it more forcefully,” said Kristin, her face pale. Now she didn't know why he'd married her. “Why did you agree?"
"Because some maid gossiped about us all over town and everyone believed the lies."
Not because he cared for her, she thought despondently. Of course, he didn't. “I didn't know they were lies,” said Kristin. “I thought kisses—oh, do go away!"
"Nonsense,” said Jack. “The deed is done. We're married."
"Even if we are, you should move back to the hotel until you leave for Chicago."
"I'm not returning to Chicago."
"What do you mean? Why would you want to stay?"
"I like it here. It's an exciting place. I've been hunting and—"
"You?” said Kristin, completely confused. She felt as if she were just meeting him.
"Of course,” said Jack. “I even ate the birds I shot. Very tasty."
"What a terrible thing to say."
"And I've been fishing and eating the fish. Best of all, the financial opportunities are just the type I like."
"Risky? Is that what you mean?"
"Exactly. Even riskier than spending an evening alone with an eighteen-year-old virgin."
"You're being very ungentlemanly!"
"True,” Jack agreed. “That's part of my new image. Isn't that the way you're painting me in the portrait? Well, that's not me you're painting, my dear wife, but do enjoy yourself. You already have your hundred dollars, so you can do anything with my face and person you want."
He hates me, she thought, then said proudly, “I don't want to do anything with your person."
"Sooner or later you will,” said Jack. “So where am I to sleep in the meantime?"
Kristin reluctantly showed him to the only extra room that had a bed in it. It was to have housed a Chi
cago girl or two and was accordingly utilitarian.
"Good lord,” said Jack, “I can see that our first priority will be to buy furniture for this room and the drawing room. Where did you get that red-velvet stuff?"
"Hush!” said Kristin. “Ingrid thinks it's beautiful."
"What will she do if I criticize it? Throw up on me?"
Unable to help herself, Kristin began to giggle. Jack's face broke into a broad smile, and he leaned over and kissed her lightly on the mouth, causing her to jump back and trip on the ragged hall carpet. “Well, good night, my sweet wife,” he said, tossed his valise into the tacky little bedroom, and closed the door in her face.
As he undressed, Jack thought about his conversation with Kristin. It had never occurred to him that the girl might think she could be impregnated by a kiss. She must have been terrified. He looked around the room and wondered where he was to hang his clothes. There was no wardrobe. Jack folded his coat neatly over the one chair, thinking that Kristin must have stayed in rooms like this since she fled the Traube mansion. No wonder she was so bitter toward him. Living like a pauper, thinking she had lost her virginity and might be with child. She didn't seem to know what virginity was.
Still, Jack was sure that he could salvage the marriage. He had always had good luck with women, and Kristin had been a soft-natured girl, not one to stand up to authority, more given to running away from trouble than facing it.
As he prepared for bed, Jack reflected that this was not the way he had imagined spending his wedding night, and he had indeed been thinking about that subject all day—to such an extent that it was difficult to concentrate on money. His associates had laughed at him. However, he had no doubt that in the very near future, perhaps tomorrow night, he would manage to seduce his wife. Innocent, virginal Kristin would be putty in his hands. Jack chuckled and hoped that she would prove to be as passionate as her conduct in her father's library promised.
He'd have her all to himself. Well, of course, there was that drunken Ingrid, but she would hardly prove to be any sort of deterrent to his romantic intentions, not when she was in the habit of drinking herself into oblivion each night. She hadn't even appeared to defend her friend in the confrontation this evening. Jack climbed into the hard, narrow bed meant for a small maid, not a tall gentleman accustomed to luxury. As he fell asleep, his thoughts were equally divided between new furniture and the anticipation of passionate seduction. That's marriage for you, he thought drowsily, more practical than romantic. But his dreams weren't practical.
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