The Cheyenne Mail Order Bride Romanced by the Ranch

by Iris Kelly

  “A bounty hunter! How interesting! I take it you must have caught a lot of criminals.”

  Her reaction took Ajax by surprise. “Yes, ma’am, I sure did. I’m awfully good with a gun. And good at askin’ the right questions to track a fella down. I must’a brought in close to fifty outlaws. I know it ain’t the most highly regarded of jobs, but I did it about as good as it can be done, and I take some pride in that.”

  “But now?”

  “Well, time’s passin’ by. And I just started thinkin’ about the future and wonderin’ if it weren’t time to be a little more settled.”

  “Hmm. Family. A wife.”

  “Somethin’ like that. Except, I can’t be wanderin’ all over the country, draggin’ desperados back to prison.”

  “Oh, did you ever have to . . . kill any of them?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Quite a few.”

  “I’m sure they were murderously bad men.”

  “Every single one of them.”

  Lydia knew that her predilections for iconic Westerners would strike every rational person as an unfathomable peculiarity. But she was pleased to be on speaking acquaintance with a real bounty hunter, and somehow, it helped lift the cloud of doom from over her.

  “Here you go, Mrs. Maxwell. Just head up these stairs to get to the Carlyles. Shall I come back for you, say, at two o’clock? Or later, if you’d prefer.”

  “Two o’clock is fine, Mr. Harper.”

  “Ajax.”

  “I will see you at two, Ajax.”

  Lydia climbed the long wooden stairwell at the back of the feed store, and Virginia opened the door before she could even knock. Virginia pulled her into a long hug.

  “Fanny stopped by,” Virginia said.

  “Ah, my embarrassing news is spreading as fast as wildfire.”

  “Come have a seat.”

  Near the sofa, little Felicity was squirming in her bassinet. Lydia lifted her out.

  “She has your eyes. And Lewis’s dimples. Oh, my dear. Your family. Your happiness. It is my only consolation now.”

  “I’m so sorry about Mr. Cooper. He truly is a very kind and loyal man. I wish he was not so closed to the prospect of marrying again.”

  Lydia eyed Virginia suspiciously. “Virginia. Did you know anything about Fanny’s scheme? The truth, now.”

  “The truth is . . . that I wouldn’t exactly refer to it as Fanny’s scheme.”

  Lydia’s mind started spinning. Virginia cautiously pulled the baby out of her arms.

  “Oh, that baby will not protect you, Virginia Margaret Bellamy Carlyle! Tell me that you weren’t behind deceiving me into believing that this man wanted to marry me. That I just gave up my life in Boston to come here to have all my hopes crushed. To be stranded and humiliated. And to have inflicted this terrible hoax on an innocent man as well. Is this all your doing?”

  “I understand what a harsh light you must see these events in. But I have no apologies to offer. Let us start with the life that you just gave up in Boston. What life? Being at Florence’s beck and call? And despite your wealth, being treated like some sort of poor charity case? You’re here now. Are you even entertaining the notion of returning to that household?”

  Lydia took in a sharp breath. Absolutely not. Come what may, return was impossible.

  “And the balls, and tea parties, and gossip, and silly competitions. Weren’t you tired of it all? It took me a long time to realize that I was done with all that nonsense. But you’re smarter than I am. You thought I was a harebrained ninny for caring so much about such things. And so I was.”

  Lydia leapt to her feet and began pacing the room. “You might well have simply invited me out. Why did you have to involve Mr. Cooper? Oh, Virginia. You don’t know how high my hopes were raised. It would have been far better for me to never know that he existed. If you had seen the look on his face, the disbelief that I could have been so foolish and presumptuous. And how desperate he must see me as. I have lost all dignity in his eyes. Not that I ever hope to look into them again.”

  “He was taken by surprise. But I do not accept that he is not ready for marriage. I would not have arranged this if I didn’t believe it was a wonderful advantage for all concerned. You are full of excitement for Western things. And I was full of excitement at the wonderful prospect of having you live near me. Selfish, certainly. But I have committed to the truth.

  As for Mr. Cooper, by all accounts his marriage was a happy one. But he has been alone for four years. You’re both too wonderful to be alone.”

  “Being alone is obviously his preference. And it’s my fate, Virginia. I was not meant to be wife and mother. But there’s little else, is there? Oh, Virginia, what am I to do? I don’t know what I am going to do.”

  “What would you have done in Boston?”

  Lydia scoffed. “Not much.”

  “Then do it here. You never have to lay eyes on the Bellamys again. At least your life will have gained by that much. Lewis and I and Felicity will love to have you so close.”

  “I don’t even have a home. And no one to live with. And I am not hinting at anything. Your place is small, and a young couple needs their privacy.”

  “Just stay at Miss Mabel’s for now. We’ll find you a proper home before long. It’s a nice town, Aunt Lydia. You might be very content here. And Mr. Cooper—”

  “Oh, promise me that I’ll ever have to lay eyes on him again.”

  “That is one promise I cannot make. You may very well run into him in this very home. He stops by downstairs to see how his nephew’s business is doing. And Lewis often brings him up for a cup of tea.” Virginia gestured toward the bookshelves lining the sitting room wall. “He also comes by to borrow books.”

  “Oh, no. He’s not expected today, is he?”

  “His visits have become more frequent. I think he is lonely, Aunt Lydia.”

  “That is little flattery to me, that I cannot even appeal to a lonely man. No, let’s speak no more of him.”

  “What would you like to speak of?”

  “Anything but him. I have no desire to think of him, or to dwell on how I had assumed that he and I would soon . . .”

  The tears and sobs could not be held back. Virginia quickly came to her aunt’s side, with one arm holding the baby and the other around Lydia’s heaving shoulders.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  What had his daughter been thinking!? To drag that innocent woman from her home two thousand miles away, and deceive her into believing that she was heading into a marriage! The most unbelievable part of this whole debacle, to Giles, was that Fanny thought that he could actually be talked into marrying again. As if it carried no more weight than going to a party.

  He hadn’t lost his young bride after a few short years. He had had close to thirty wonderful years of marriage and family. And it was done. One great life is all any man can ask for; he didn’t have the slightest inclination to seek a second one.

  Another difficult fact to swallow was the fact that this lovely, vibrant woman had been willing to marry herself to a complete stranger. Of course, he had heard of many other such arrangements. But the ladies involved were often in struggling circumstances, or had some glaring liability that inhibited a marriage closer to home.

  Mrs. Maxwell was the sort of lady who could have no shortage of suitors. But she had actually said yes, or thought she was saying yes, to him! They had spent three days together, with her as a guest under his roof. And under this terrible misunderstanding, she had still been ready to marry him. How many men, East or West, would have been ecstatic to have the approval of such a fine lady?

  *****

  Lydia spent that long evening in the boardinghouse parlor, which was filled with a few other tenants who were reading quietly and left her to think in privacy. She contemplated a new residence in Cheyenne and what form it could possibly take. Her life in Boston had consisted of long walks designed to get some much-needed distance from the Bellamy family. She spent her days at the library.
At the museums. At the park. Sometimes she was enlisted for care of her nephew. She attended the occasional tea. Although, no longer having a husband of any importance, those invitations had arisen more and more infrequently.

  Would living in Cheyenne just be a matter of finding those same solitary activities? An unobtrusive widow, living at the margins of this new frontier town, with no clearly defined role or purpose. But she had become well used to that. Surely it was just a matter of adapting to the new surroundings and passing through, with little notice taken of her by those who actually had a place in this world.

  *****

  The next day, Lydia was still trying to grasp her place in this new world when she joined Miss Mabel in the parlor. While her tenants were all at their respective places of employment, Miss Mabel would vacate the kitchen and sit in the parlor with a large basket of snap peas, preparing for the evening supper in relative comfort.

  She was also grousing again about her nephew. “Good thing I get good rent from all the other rooms. I’d be in the poorhouse if I had to put up anymore lazy relatives.”

  “My impression of him was not laziness, Miss Mabel. I think his former job involved a great deal of exertion and tenacity. He may just need a little time to sort out a new direction for himself.”

  “Hmmph. Guess I can afford it. For now.”

  “You run your own business. That’s rather remarkable. I didn’t know of any ladies in Boston who owned a business. Is that . . . common around here?”

  “Not all that common. But anybody who’s got a mind to can do anythin’ they want. Who’s to stop ‘em? Almost all of the dressmaker shops are owned by ladies. Oh, most women who need money do the same thing as fellas. They get a job—waitress, housekeeper, teacher.

  But not just those jobs. This town is growin’ real fast and there’s not enough men to do everythin’ that needs to be done. Mr. Carlyle used to work over at the newspaper. He said there were two young ladies over there doin’ the same thing he done. And at the mercantile. And over at the post office. Why, Mrs. Maxwell? You in the market for a job?”

  “No, not a job. Not for money. That I’ve got. My late husband . . . left me a tidy sum. But . . . I really do need a way to spend my days, don’t I? Some useful occupation.”

  “Ever thought of teachin’? The teachers around here keep getting’ married, and there always seem to be openin’s.”

  “I suppose it is something to consider.”

  “Maybe you do the same thing as all the other teachers and wind up married yourself.”

  “No one is going to want to marry me, Miss Mabel.”

  “What a silly thing to say. You’s older than your niece, but just as pretty. You’ll get offers, no doubt about it.”

  “I . . . cannot have children. No man wants a barren wife.”

  That news took Miss Mabel by surprise. “Yeah. You’re right about that. It was the same with me. Oh, I know, everyone calls me Miss Mabel and they just assume I’m an old spinster. Which is fine by me. I don’t need anyone’s nose in my business.”

  “Are you a widow then, Miss Mabel?”

  “Sure is. My husband ran off some thirty years ago. He was one of the forty-niners. Couldn’t give him any sons so he weren’t all that fond of me. He decided he’d rather pan for gold. And he found some. He sure did. And then he died. Only we was legally still man and wife. And the money went to me. It sure did. And fifteen years back, I followed the railroad to Cheyenne thinkin’ a new town like this was a good place for a boardin’ house. And I bought this place with my widow money. I sure did. And took my family name back. And here I am. Now what do you think of that?”

  “I think you are far more resourceful with your misfortunes than I have been.”

  “You still breathin’, ain’t ya?”

  Lydia was somewhat bolstered by Miss Mabel’s faith in her prospects, but she hadn’t quite freed herself from the dreams that had filled her head and heart for many months.

  “I expected to become a rancher’s wife. To that end, I have acquired some of the most useless knowledge a lady could possibly have. I have not witnessed a branding, but I could write a discourse on the general procedure. I can discern the difference between a horse that is bred for stamina and a good cutting horse that excels in the requirements of the roundup. I know the optimal times of year to ship east for the European markets.

  You may well laugh, Miss Mabel, but I looked forward to it with such anticipation. It couldn’t be further away from the world I grew up in, and it was like being given a whole new life. And now, it’s gone.” Lydia sighed. “I guess it was never really there. Not for me.”

  “Shoo. Cain’t tell to look at you, but I reckon you would have made a fine rancher’s wife. Or even a good rancher’s widow.”

  “Rancher’s widow?”

  “Yeah, lots of times ranchers die and widows sometimes have to take over the place. I can think of three or four of them off hand. Widow Tillman, she’s got a big spread. Widow Sinclair. Now that one will probably be gettin’ married soon. But she’s been runnin’ her own show for five years since she lost her husband.”

  “She owns the ranch? And runs it?”

  “Why not? She learned enough when her husband was still around. And as long as she has a good hard-workin’ crew and a good foreman. She pays them and they keep the outfit goin’. Brings in a sizeable profit, I hear.”

  Lydia’s mind was starting to spin with unspeakable possibilities.

  “A rancher’s widow. What if . . . there were had never been a rancher? No husband, I mean. Could she have just acquired the ranch and the herd by herself? And gotten the crew and the foreman and be doing the same thing that she’s doing now? Which is to say, isn’t the dead husband . . . optional?”

  “A lady? Just up and buyin’ a ranch? No, ain’t heard of it yet.” Miss Mabel took note of the growing excitement in Lydia’s face. “Hmmph. Ain’t gonna be no rancher’s wife. Cain’t be no rancher’s widow . . . you plannin’ on bein’ a rancher, ain’tcha?”

  Lydia nodded wordlessly, and Miss Mabel cackled delightedly. “You’d be the first, least round these parts. You sure would.”

  “There’s a ranch for sale. By an elderly widow living right next to the Cooper’s ranch.”

  “Widow Ainsley. She ready to sell out? ’Bout time. She ain’t got the energy to handle that place.”

  “But I do. And there’s already a crew in place. Oh, there’s plenty to learn, but I look forward to all of that. I wonder how much she is selling it for.”

  “Did you know that Widow Ainsley is good friends with the Carlyles?”

  A big smile spread slowly over Lydia’s face. “No. No, I did not.”

  *****

  Virginia and Lewis entered the swanky hotel tearoom, with newborn Felicity in tow. They spotted Lydia, already seated, and quickly joined her.

  “Well, this is quite a treat, Aunt Lydia,” Virginia said.

  “A treat, indeed. As I recall, this place has some very fine scones,” Lewis added.

  “It is meant to be treat, celebration, and bribe,” Lydia said, gesturing for the waitress to come over with the tea.

  “Oh my. What are we celebrating? And who is being bribed?” Virginia wondered.

  “I came out here to live on a ranch. And to be a wife. Well, I’m not going to be a wife. But I am going to live on a ranch. I’m going to buy a ranch. And live on it. And run it.”

  Lydia took a long, satisfying bite out of a custard pastry while Virginia and Lewis responded with stunned silence.

  “Aunt Lydia. What can you be thinking? A ranch? I know that you were willing to live on one if you married a ranching man, but by yourself? Why?”

  “Oh Virginia, all that space! And the people and the animals and the ranch house, and being in charge of it all. It’s like having your own little kingdom. To finally have a say in what happens—in everything that happens. That’s what I want. A place of my own.”

  “But you don’t know anything ab
out running a ranch.”

  “Don’t I? Would you like to hear what factors should be taken into consideration regarding which calves should be castrated to become steers and which should be reserved for breeding bulls?”

  “No. No, I would not.”

  “It sounds riveting, but I shall defer to my wife,” Lewis said, keeping a straight face.

  “I came out here as well prepared for the ranch life as a body could be. And three days at the Cooper Ranch added greatly to my understanding. Of course there’s more to learn, and I look forward to it. But with a competent crew and foreman, I see no reason why things shouldn’t go smoothly. I will, however, be needing your help to get started.”

  “Our help?” Virginia asked.

  “Widow Ainsley is selling her ranch. I hear you are warmly acquainted with her.”

  “I have known her for as long as I’ve been in Cheyenne,” said Lewis. “We count her as a very good friend.”

  “Excellent. I need an introduction as soon as possible. I want that ranch before anyone else gets it.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Aunt Lydia . . .” Virginia said.

  “Bribe was entirely the wrong word. You are here so I may collect a debt. You owe me, Virginia. And I think I’m allowing you to repay very lightly for the predicament you put me in.”

  Lewis chuckled lightly at Virginia’s expense, but he reached over and rubbed her back to negate any harshness. She glowed with the warm security of his touch. Lydia sighed; she could not dwell on that affectionate ideal—that was not to be her fate.

  “And Lewis, did you know what your wife was up to, bringing me out here under false pretenses?” Lydia demanded.

  “I cannot speak on this matter without the presence of my attorney,” Lewis said.

  “Hah. That will be just fine with me. I’ll be needing your attorney to look over the purchase agreement. So . . . how soon will we be seeing Mrs. Ainsley?”

  *****

  Lewis had offered to walk Lydia back to the boardinghouse, but she had firmly declined. She must become accustomed to walking Main Street by herself, even though there were rough men coming out of the saloons from time to time. She smiled, remembering Miss Mabel’s advice that morning.