by Merry Farmer
“That’s ridiculous,” Bonneville drawled. “My Melinda can’t possibly be expected to work that hard within that short a space of time. It’s impossible. It’s degrading. It’s—”
“I’ll do it,” Wendy spoke up, a fierce grin lighting her beautiful face. “Just give me the chance, and I’ll do it and then some.”
Chapter 5
Ripples of excitement ran through the room. Travis could feel it swirling around Wendy. Before he knew it, he was caught up too.
“You really want to have a competition to make dresses?” he asked, leaning closer to her to be heard over the murmurs and comments.
“Yes,” Wendy replied. Her dark eyes danced with the challenge. The determined grin that pulled at the corners of her shapely mouth did things to Travis that were better not to think about in church. “I can’t think of a better way to showcase both my skills and my commitment to opening a shop,” she went on, giving his arm a squeeze. “This is a perfect idea.”
Howard was standing close enough to hear her. “Ha! I thought you’d think so, Mrs. Montrose. You have the look of a fighter about you.”
Surprised at being addressed, Wendy turned and blinked at the imposing form of Howard Haskell in the throes of an idea. “Thank you, sir.”
“I like having fighters in my town,” he went on.
“It’s not your town,” Bonneville growled. “And this contest is ridiculous.”
“I don’t see that it’s up to you, Rex,” Howard shot back.
Travis’s muscles bunched as if a physical fight were about to break out. Nothing good ever came from Howard and Bonneville facing each other directly. “It seems to me that it’s up to the ladies to decide whether they want this contest,” he said, raising a hand, but stopping short of stepping between the two. “Since it’s their business and all.”
He glanced sideways at Wendy. In the last few minutes, she had transformed from a cautious newcomer to a resolute warrior. What he wouldn’t give to take her aside somewhere and ask her a thousand questions about how she had gotten that way. He didn’t think he’d mind kissing his new wife a few times either.
“I relish the opportunity to compete for the women of Haskell,” Wendy said.
It was a clever choice of words. More than a few of the women who had drifted over to hear what was going on hummed and smiled as if flattered.
Melinda’s glance darted around the gathering women with a desperate edge to it. “Well…well I want to compete too,” she announced. “And you’ve all known me for much longer than you’ve known her.”
More murmurs from the women. Whatever Howard and Bonneville thought, even Travis could see that the women were already decided on the matter. They shifted from studying Wendy and Melinda’s faces to scrutinizing their dresses.
“Could you make me a Sunday gown with one of those stylish bustles?” Mrs. Kline, the mercantile owner’s wife asked.
“I’m sure I—”
“Yes, I could,” Melinda cut off Wendy’s reply. “I can make anything that anyone wants.”
“I’ve always fancied a dress that is serviceable and beautiful for everyday wear,” Katie said.
“I’ll make that too,” Melinda snapped before she was finished. “Better than her.”
“Melinda,” Honoria whispered behind her sister. “You can’t work fast enough to—”
“Shut up, Honoria. I’ll win this contest with one hand tied behind my back.”
“That’s the spirit,” Howard boomed. “Of course, we’ll need to have rules.”
Bonneville grumbled and stepped closer to his daughters. “I am against this in every way.”
“But Papa,” Melinda whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear her. “This is our chance to show just how superior we are.”
Wendy’s back went stiff beside Travis. He checked on her out of the corner of his eyes and found her standing with her chin up and steel in her eyes. It was almost enough to make him laugh. Anyone who thought they were superior to the woman who stood beside him had another think coming.
“Now, this contest should take place on neutral territory,” Howard went on. He craned his neck, searching around the church. Many of the townspeople had already left to head over to the school, where their potluck lunch was waiting, but Howard found who he was looking for. “Ah! Gunn! Come over here, man.”
The circle discussing the contest—now well over a dozen strong—turned in unison. Theophilus Gunn flinched at the sight of so many people suddenly staring at him. He was talking to Charlie Garrett, and at Howard’s waving, both men came over to join the conversation.
“Gunn. We’re shaping up to have a capital dress-making competition on our hands,” Howard explained.
“Oh?” As proper as an English butler, Gunn folded his hands in front of him and took in the various excited and curious expressions of the crowd waiting to hear what would happen next.
“We need a place to hold it,” Howard went on. “I say it should be the hotel.”
“Why the hotel?” Bonneville barked.
“Because it’s neutral ground,” Howard explained with a scowl. “Also, there’s enough room there to store the ladies’ work. And Gunn here can be the umpire.”
“Me, sir?” Gunn’s brow shot up.
“Yes, you. You’re as impartial as anyone gets in these parts.”
A smile spread across Gunn’s sage face. “Thank you, sir. It would be an honor.”
“Do you agree?” Howard growled at Bonneville, as if expecting a fight.
Bonneville rubbed his chin, eyes narrowed, studying Theophilus Gunn. For his part, Gunn merely stared back at him, expression blank. At last, Bonneville said, “All right. I agree.”
“But Papa,” Melinda interrupted, eyes wide and face pale with panic. “Why do we need an umpire or a judge or whatever you want to call it at all?” She swayed closer to him and hissed, “He’ll just get in the way.”
“Hush, Melinda.” Bonneville dipped close to her ear and whispered something that brought relief to Melinda’s face and suspicion to Travis.
“Good.” Howard nodded, ignoring the side drama. “It’s decided then. The dress-making competition will take place at the hotel, and Theophilus Gunn will be the umpire.”
“Are you all right with this, sir?” Gunn asked Charlie. “It’s your hotel.”
Charlie was busy trying to hide a chuckle. “Oh, by all means, Gunn, by all means.”
“It’s settled,” Howard announced. “Now let’s go over to the school and eat before the baseball game.”
Everyone moved at once. The thunder of over a dozen people walking along with the swell of conversation as they went left Travis feeling as though he’d endured a stampede.
“It’s too bad my sister, Bessie, is stuck in Denver doing so poorly,” Herb Waters said as he passed Wendy and Travis. “A new dress would cheer her right up.”
“Well, that was not what I expected my introduction into Haskell society to be like,” Wendy said once he’d moved on, her free hand pressed to her chest.
“Oh.” Travis paused, facing her instead of leading her out of the church and on to the school with everyone else. “Should I have said something to stop it? Honestly, I don’t have the first idea about how a husband is supposed to stand up for a wife.”
Wendy chuckled. “You’re doing a fine job so far.”
She urged him to keep walking, so the two of them headed on, following the stream of people crossing through the church yard to the school, which stood on the other side of the baseball diamond.
“I noticed Mr. Bonneville talking to you before plans for the dressmaking competition were hatched,” Wendy went on, her rich voice warm.
Prickles of self-consciousness broke out down Travis’s back. “Yeah.” He didn’t need to wait for Wendy to ask why before saying, “He wanted to talk to me about the job.”
“He…he didn’t cancel his offer, did he?” She gripped his arm more tightly.
A pinch of uncertainty gn
awed at Travis’s gut. It sounded like she was worried he’d end up without a job at all. In a flash, everything became clear. No wonder she’d seemed so disappointed. She was worried about whether he’d be able to provide for her or not. She needed to feel secure. And for him, that meant working for Bonneville under any conditions.
“Don’t you worry.” He smiled, tucking her arm more tightly against his side. “You and I are going to be sitting pretty in our own little cabin before too long. Bonneville is just a step on the road.”
He expected Wendy to smile with relief. She did smile, but it was tense, forced. His confidence faltered.
“If…if you’re having second thoughts,” she began quietly. “If you’re not in a financial position to support a wife at this time, I’m…I’m sure there’s a way to undo the marriage, considering…considering nothing has happened yet,” she said, eyes fluttering down, a dark blush coming to her cheeks.
Travis felt as though someone had thrust a hot poker into his chest. The very last thing he wanted to do was call the whole thing off, even if it could be done at this point.
“Is that what you want?” he asked, though it made his heart burn and his throat close up.
She lifted her gaze to meet his. “No. But if it’s what you want…”
“It isn’t,” he assured her. Only, what he did want involved him being far less of a gentleman than Wendy deserved. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “How about this? How about the two of us move forward one step at a time? I was going to see if Elizabeth Haskell might let us move into the Hen House at Paradise Ranch together, even though I don’t technically work for Howard anymore.”
“The Hen House?” Wendy shook her head, baffled.
Travis chuckled. “It’s this small cottage Howard built on his property in the spring for newlywed couples if their house in The Village isn’t finished. Luke and Eden Chance lived there for a few months.”
“That’s very nice of Mr. Haskell to provide.”
“Yes, well, I would ask about us moving in there, but it sounds like it will be a whole lot handier for you to keep staying at the hotel while this competition is going on.”
“Yes,” Wendy agreed slowly. “But…but will that mean we won’t get to see each other much?”
Travis blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. Dangit, but he wanted to spend all of his time with his wonderful new wife, not out in the paddocks on the ranch with a bunch of cows, twiddling his thumbs while waiting for Bonneville to make things official.
“We’ll work it out,” he promised with a smile, taking Wendy’s arm and starting back along the path to the school. “One way or another, we’ll find a way to be together.”
Wendy had never been naïve enough to think that marriage was easy, but the more days that passed, the more bewildering her marriage seemed. She continued to stay at the hotel, spending a good part of her day at a table Mr. Gunn had set up for her in the lobby, where she could both sketch designs for the upcoming dress competition and socialize with the curious ladies of Haskell. Everyone seemed to want to get to know her after the announcement about the competition was made at Sunday’s potluck. She’d hardly had the chance to watch the baseball game, so many people approached her in the stands. She’d hardly had a chance to talk to Travis.
She wasn’t about to complain, though. In just a few days, she learned two very important things. First, that Haskell had a shockingly small female population compared to the amount of men who had moved there. It was no wonder men were sending to Hurst Home for brides. But every one of that small number of women seemed hungry to have a seamstress in town. Melinda had made dresses for her friends in the past, but only her friends, as she saw fit. Second, every woman and man in town respected Travis…and they were surprised he had married her when Cody had abandoned her. What Wendy couldn’t seem to work out is whether they were shocked because of who she was or whether the surprise came from never expecting that Travis would marry at all.
“Mrs. Montrose?”
Wendy wore a deep frown and sat in silence contemplation of the question, her sketching pencil suspended over her paper, when Theophilus Gunn ventured over to interrupt her.
“Yes?” Wendy shook herself out of her thoughts, set her pencil down, and pressed the backs of her hands to her heated cheeks to cool them. “I’m sorry, can I help you with something, Mr. Gunn?”
Mr. Gunn stood beside her table for a moment, his own brow creased in thought, his hands clasped behind his back. Wendy could practically see the gears turning in his mind.
“Perhaps I can help you with something,” he said after an intake of breath. “You seem…disquiet.”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Wendy smiled, lowering her eyes to her designs so that Mr. Gunn wouldn’t see the lie there.
Mr. Gunn hummed. “I’ve seen more than my fair share of troubled souls,” he said, moving to sit in the chair across the table from Wendy. His back remained perfectly straight as he folded his hands on the table. Wendy couldn’t spot a single fleck of dust on his impeccable uniform. “I’ve found that it helps people to talk about their problems to an impartial judge.”
A sudden grin split Wendy’s face. “And seeing as Howard Haskell has appointed you to be that impartial judge…”
Gunn blinked in confusion, then laughed. “The ‘umpire.’ Of course.” He brushed that away with a roll of his eyes. “Meaningless, seeing as we all know how the competition is going to turn out.”
“Oh? Do we?” Wendy leaned toward him. She barely knew this man, but something about him encouraged her to bare her soul.
“Melinda Bonneville has the attention span of a— You’re evading my question.” He arched an eyebrow, giving him a sly look. “So I will be bold and venture to answer it myself. You’re at a loss because of your newfound married state.”
Apparently there was no keeping secrets from this man. “Is it that obvious?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Mr. Gunn spread his arms to underscore his point. “As I understand it, you agreed to come out to Haskell to marry Cody Montrose, expecting he was more like Solomon Templesmith, and ended up married to Travis. If it were me, I would be baffled and upside down.”
“Yes, I do feel like an acrobat in a traveling show,” Wendy admitted.
Mr. Gunn shifted his position, leaning closer to her. “Let me ask you this. Which troubles you more, the whispers that your marriage might not be legal or the lack of time you’ve had to spend with Travis?”
Wendy flushed as if he’d pointed out a smudge of dirt on her face. The answer was both and neither. She still couldn’t push her mind past the vast differences in lifestyle that she and Travis were accustomed to. It seemed like such a selfish and trivial thing to cling to the hope of living in town, as much as she longed to become closer to her sudden husband.
“I’m assured by a great many people that Howard Haskell will ensure my marriage to Travis is legal,” she answered carefully.
The sharpness in his eyes said Mr. Gunn saw right past her evasion tactics. Regardless, he answered, “Would you feel better hearing those assurances from Howard himself?”
Wendy sat straighter, not realizing she’d drooped as they’d talked. “Do you think that would help?”
Mr. Gunn shifted, absolute seriousness painting his expression. “Can you ride a horse or drive a wagon?”
Her disappointment returned. “No.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Gunn rubbed his chin. “I suppose I could spare Olga for the afternoon.”
“Olga?” She shook her head in confusion. “For what purpose?”
“To take you out to Paradise Ranch,” Gunn said.
Wendy caught her breath. Could she actually go out to where Travis was, uninvited and unprepared? Would he be glad to see her or would she only be in the way?
“To speak to Howard Haskell, of course,” Gunn went on, a cunning flash in his eye.
“Howard Haskell,” Wendy repeated.
“Yes. It is my belief th
at a visit to Paradise Ranch will be just the thing to lift the worry from your shoulders.”
“I suppose so.” Wendy had a hard time believing the purpose of her visit would truly be to speak to Howard, but she sighed and began gathering her sketches and supplies. “All right. I suppose finding out that much, at least, would set my mind at ease.”
“Good.” Mr. Gunn stood. “I’ll have Olga run down to the livery to borrow Herb Waters’ wagon to take you.”
Before Wendy could think to ask questions or argue in any way, she was sitting on the bench of the same wagon Travis had given her a tour of the town in, driving under an iron arch that bore the words “Paradise Ranch,” her heart in her throat.
“It’s been weeks since I’ve come out to Paradise Ranch,” Olga chattered as they drove on. “It’s such a pretty stretch of land.”
Olga was right. Even though the bloom of summer had given way to the crispness of fall, the wide plains and turning trees of Paradise Ranch were a sight to behold. Mountains rose up in the distance. Wendy still couldn’t get used to the sheer size of those mountains. Here and there, cattle wandered the closed-in fields. She even saw a few calves as they grew closer to the cluster of buildings that Olga explained was Howard Haskell’s patch within the ranch. His sister, Virginia Piedmont, had her own patch deeper into the ranch’s boundaries.
“Olga, what brings you out here?” One of the ranch hands left his work shifting hay bales from the back of a long hay rick into the biggest barn Wendy had ever seen.
“Billy!” Olga returned the man’s greeting with girlish enthusiasm and hopped down from the wagon almost before the horse had stopped. “I brought Mrs. Montrose out to see Howard Haskell.”
No one rushed to help Wendy down from the wagon. The way Olga and Billy were making eyes at each other, Wendy figured no one would come either. Suppressing a chuckle, she gathered her skirts and worked out how to climb down from the wagon in her heeled boots.
“Howard’s not here,” Billy told her when she was finally on the ground, regaining her balance and smoothing her skirt.
