Her Wyoming Man

by Cheryl St. John

  She hadn’t cried since she was small, and she wasn’t going to lose control now. She swallowed the burning sensation in her throat and squeezed her eyes shut against the prickling threat, fighting for composure.

  Lying in his bed, with his arms around her, his scent enveloped her, branded her. She was his wife. Nathan Lantry’s wife. He’d married her after meeting her only once, even though the impulsive decision went against everything she’d learned about him. She’d believed—because it was all she knew to believe—that she would immediately become an object for his pleasure. She would fulfill his physical needs and he would provide a home and security.

  He had provided the home, and so far the security…but she was no closer to sating his physical needs. The man had a will of steel.

  Ella woke to sunlight stretching across the bed and warming her where she lay snuggled in a heap of bedclothes. The luxurious sensation felt so good, she purred and stretched, finally fluttering her eyelids open.

  She was alone.

  She sat up and oriented herself, coming fully awake.

  The previous night came back to her with an all-encompassing tingle of warmth. She let herself remember everything that had transpired between her and her husband. Every last breathtaking moment.

  She smiled. A silly, self-indulgent smile.

  Wondering about the disarray of her hair, she realized she would have to head for her own room to wash and change. What time was it and where were Nathan…and the children? She flung back the covers and stood. After two steps, she reached Nathan’s bureau and her gaze landed upon the framed photograph.

  Sitting right on top of the bureau where she couldn’t have missed it, where Nathan saw it every time he got up and every time he went to bed, was a photograph of Nathan seated in front of a standing woman who wore a wedding dress and lace veil. Ella reached for the frame, but stopped inches away and drew back her hand. The portrait wasn’t hers to touch.

  But she leaned closer and examined the delicate face of the fair-haired bride. She wasn’t what might be considered beautiful by some standards, but her lips were turned up in a sweet smile, and she had an unrivaled purity about her. A wholesomeness that made Ella’s chest ache. Her gown was obviously satin and well made. Her fair hair had been fashioned in a shiny soft upswept style beneath the beaded veil. Deborah.

  Innocent. That was all Ella could think. This woman had come to her husband pure and untouched. Nathan had honored her chastity just as he believed he honored Ella by sparing her his lovemaking.

  The likeness of Nathan’s first wife positioned deliberately right here where he saw it each time he came to bed…each time he woke, disturbed her in a manner she didn’t want to examine too closely. He kept Deborah close because he loved her still. He mourned her. If Ella hadn’t flung herself at him, attempting to seduce him at every turn, even last night wouldn’t have happened.

  What she’d celebrated only hours ago now seemed as sullied as everything else about her life. As sullied as everything about who she was.

  Clutching her nightdress closed at her throat, she hurried from the room.

  Half an hour later, she found activity in the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry I overslept,” she said to Mrs. Shippen, who was rubbing a bar of soap on a child-sized shirt. Charlotte stood at the sink drying dishes, and Grace and Robby were seated at the kitchen table, playing with wooden rings and a short peg on a stand. “Good morning,” she said to them. “What are you playing?”

  Grace held up one of the rings, about three inches in diameter so Ella could see it.

  “I’ve never seen that game before. How do you play?”

  Grace demonstrated by tossing the ring at the peg, where it caught and looped around.

  “It’s called Quoit,” Mrs. Shippen told her. “You’ve seen the outdoor version, haven’t you?”

  “I never have,” Ella answered.

  “Ewwa twy,” Robby said and held out a ring.

  Touched that he included her in their play, Ella took it and tossed it, but missed the peg. “I guess it takes some practice.”

  “It’s your privilege to sleep in as late as you like, Mrs. Lantry,” Mrs. Shippen told her in a low voice.

  Charlotte nodded. “Have a seat. I saved a plate for you.”

  “That’s kind of you, thank you, but I can get it myself.”

  She found a hot pad and took the plate from the oven. Charlotte placed a fork on the table and poured her a cup of tea.

  Ella ate her breakfast while the children played their game.

  When she’d finished, she added sugar to her tea and sipped it. “Mrs. Shippen?” she asked. The woman turned her attention to Ella, and she continued. “Did you see the other Mrs. Lantry when she dressed for parties and went out of an evening?”

  “I did, ma’am.”

  “Can you tell me what appropriate dress would be for this Spring Gala event?”

  “The Missus always wore one of her nice gowns with elegant jewelry and gloves. And she purchased a gift for the hostess.”

  “What sort of gift?”

  “Candy or stationery or a sachet. Something of the like.”

  “I suppose I’d better shop today then. Will it be convenient for me to go out this morning?”

  “I’m here to make things convenient for you, not the other way around. Let me know your plans and I’ll care for the children.”

  Ella got up and placed her plate in the sink, where Charlotte immediately washed it. Ella stood beside her as she took a towel and dried the plate. “What else did Mrs. Lantry do?”

  “She made shopping lists,” Mrs. Shippen replied. “She oversaw the cleaning, kept the household budget and planned an occasional party.”

  “How does one know what to place on a shopping list?”

  Mrs. Shippen exchanged a glance with Charlotte before opening a drawer and taking out a piece of paper. Ella read it over, absorbing the logic of the necessary items. She had no idea what it took to run a household. “I’ll make these purchases today.”

  The woman nodded. “Very well.”

  Ella gathered a shawl and her reticule, then paused. She walked back to the kitchen. “How do you pay?”

  “Mr. Lantry has accounts at the shops. The merchants send him a bill.”

  “Well, isn’t that convenient?”

  Mrs. Shippen gave her a quizzical look as Ella turned to tell Grace and Robby she was leaving.

  Simply walking down the front stairs and making her way along the edge of the brick street gave her a sense of elation. The freedom to come and go as she pleased would never grow old.

  A few blocks later, she strolled along the main street, greeted by an occasional man or woman. A shopkeeper recognized her from church and waved a hello. She got a warm feeling in her chest and smiled to herself. No one turned his back or pretended not to know her. The women didn’t hold their skirts aside and whisper as she passed. Ella stood studying the storefronts, familiarizing herself with the places and goods available.

  Deciding on a store, she entered. The bell over the door clanged. Women’s voices carried from the side of the room, but Ella went about her business and selected a box of stationery. She neared the counter and noted a woman standing back from the others, waiting to make her purchase. She held bath talc and a package of needles. Her lowered gaze didn’t raise to Ella.

  “Hello,” the proprietress said to Ella. “Aren’t you the new Mrs. Lantry?”

  “Yes.”

  “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am. I’m Edwina Harrison. My husband runs this store.”

  “How do you do?”

  Another woman stepped back to open their circle to Ella. “Are you looking forward to the Spring Gala, dear?”

  Ella chatted a moment, and finally Edwina reached for the box of stationery, “Is this all you’d like today?”

  Ella glanced at the woman who’d been there first, but who still stood silently waiting. “She was ahead of me.” She took a step back a
nd gestured to the woman. “Go ahead.”

  She was older than Ella, thin, with lines at the corners of her eyes. She was dressed as respectably as anyone else in the store, but her hand was void of a wedding band. A startled look crossed her features, but still she kept her face lowered, her gaze on something on a lower shelf. She shook her head. “No, you go ahead.”

  “Here, I’ll wrap your purchase,” Edwina said to Ella. “Shall I put it on Mr. Lantry’s account?”

  Puzzled, Ella took another step back. “No, I insist this lady go first. She was waiting when I got here.”

  The woman to Ella’s left said in a low tone. “Bess Duncan isn’t a lady, Mrs. Lantry.”

  With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Ella turned her attention from the woman who’d spoken to the one called Bess. The humiliated woman flattened her lips, and at last she looked up. The too-familiar pain and humiliation Ella saw in the depths of her faded gray eyes struck her numb. Ella had never laid eyes on Bess before, but she knew her. She knew this woman’s fear and hopelessness intimately. She recognized isolation and condemnation as longtime companions. Ella stared into her own mirror image and saw despair reflected.

  With supreme dignity, Bess set the two items on the nearest counter, turned on her heel and walked from the store.

  The bell tolled with a grim finality.

  “Of all the nerve,” one of the women said. “Marching in here as though she’s fit to shop with the rest of us.”

  Ella set the stationery on the counter, and then impulsively picked up the talcum powder and needles Bess had left behind. “I need these, too.”

  Edwina looked at her curiously, but she tallied the items in a ledger, wrapped them in brown paper and handed Ella the package.

  Ella didn’t hear anything else the women said to each other or to her. She said thank you and hightailed it out the door and onto the street.

  Standing in the midmorning sun, she peered one way and then the other, catching sight of the thin woman walking quickly away, already a block from the store.

  Ella held her skirt hem above her ankles and ran along the boardwalk. At the sound of feet pounding on the wood, the woman she followed stopped and backed up against the front of the nearest building as though she anticipated an attack. As Ella neared, Bess fastened a wary look on her.

  Slowing a few feet away, Ella came to a stop. Now that she was here, she didn’t know what to say. Ending up like this woman was her worst fear. She glanced aside nervously, then back. Finally, she tore the wrapper from the items to remove her stationery and then rolled the paper back around the rest. She extended the package. “These are yours.”

  Bess didn’t reach for them. “You shouldn’t be seen talkin’ to me. Your friends wouldn’t like it none.”

  “I don’t care what they think. Now take these, please. I know you need them,” Ella said. “Please.”

  Slowly Bess reached for the package. She stood clutching the bundle to her breast and stared at Ella for a long uncomfortable moment. Reaching into the small drawstring bag hanging from her forearm, she pulled out a coin and held it toward Ella.

  “It’s a gift,” Ella said with a shake of her head.

  Bess blinked, but she held Ella’s gaze for a long moment. Finally, she asked, “Why?”

  “Because not everyone is like them,” Ella answered.

  Something shifted behind Bess’s eyes. Gratitude.

  The emotion was painful for Ella to see. It was obvious that no one in town had treated Bess kindly in a long time. Obvious…and wrong. Ella turned and walked away.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ella hadn’t been this nervous on her wedding day. Back then she hadn’t known how important it was to fit in and not make a poor impression for Nathan’s sake. She changed her dress three times, finally satisfied with her choice. The dress she deemed appropriate had a close-fitting midsection made of deep blue velvet, and the bodice had been designed to appear as though swags of pale aqua crepe de chine crisscrossed over her bosom. A full skirt of the same fabric had an overskirt adorned with gauze roses draping to a point in the front. Another rose perched on her left shoulder.

  She wore a square sapphire on a silk ribbon around her neck and matching earbobs. Sheer gloves that matched the blue velvet came up over her elbows. Over her glove on her right hand, she wore a sapphire ring. She had fastened matching roses in her curled and upswept hair.

  Ready now, Ella tiptoed into the nursery. Christopher’s and Robby’s eyes were closed, but Grace widened hers in admiration.

  Ella tucked the covers up under her chin. “Good night, little one.”

  Grace slipped her hand from under the covers to touch Ella’s earbob, and then gave her a shy smile.

  Mrs. Shippen sat in the nearby rocker, waiting for Grace to fall asleep. She smiled and encouraged Ella to have a nice evening. Descending the stairs, Ella joined Nathan in the foyer. He studied her with what she hoped was appreciation.

  “Is it inappropriate?” she asked.

  He found his voice. “You are the most exquisite woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. No one will ever notice Phoebe’s stunning flower arrangements once you’ve arrived.”

  “I want you to be proud of me.”

  “I am the most fortunate man in all of Wyoming,” he told her. He glanced down. “I think your boot has come untied.”

  “Oh, beans.” She leaned forward to look. “I tied them after I had my gloves on.”

  “Allow me.” He bent to one knee in his dashing black suit and motioned for her to give him her foot.

  She raised her hem and complied. The bronze kid boot extended five inches above her ankle and was open down the front, with only silk lacing holding it on her foot and leg. The smart heel was all the fashion rage when she’d ordered them. Nathan tied the sash with a secure bow and stood to offer her his arm. She unfolded the lace shawl she carried and he draped it around her shoulders.

  She pointed. “There’s a hostess gift on the table.”

  He picked up the wrapped package and tucked it under his arm. “It’s only a block, so I thought we’d walk,” he said. “Are you able?”

  “Of course.”

  “Sometimes ladies’ slippers have no soles, and the paving is brick all the way.”

  “These boots have a sturdy sole for just that reason.” She was glad for the time to unwind, actually. She would enjoy the walk and the refreshing evening air. Nathan took her hand, and all she could think of was the rainy night she’d spent in his bed. She glanced upward. Not a cloud in the starry night sky.

  At the Crandalls’ a servant took Ella’s shawl at the door and ushered them along a hall and through a wide open doorway into an enormous room already milling with guests.

  “Phoebe Crandall, dear,” said the woman who rushed to greet them. “This is my husband, Richard.”

  Richard took her hand and bent over it formally. “I heard Nathan had married a beauty, but I had no idea.”

  Ella smiled politely. She didn’t like the way he looked at her. Not as much appreciative as leering. She withdrew her hand and took Nathan’s arm, handing Phoebe the gift at the same time. “A little something for you.”

  “Thank you, dear.” She set the package on a table behind her, and Ella noticed the pile of gifts for the first time. “Help yourself to drinks along the side over there.”

  Nathan led Ella farther into the room and pointed to the marble-topped liquor cabinet. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Whatever you have.”

  He poured deep red liquid into a glass and handed it to her. Nathan had been right about flowers. Every surface and even wall sconces overflowed with fragrant colorful blooms. Ella asked Nathan about each variety and he knew most of them. She couldn’t help thinking of Celeste and how pleased she’d been with the simple wildflowers Ella had picked for her.

  “Hello, Ella.”

  She turned from a floral display to recognize Lena. “I’ve been wondering how you were doing. I visited Celeste this
week. She’s very happy with her rancher.”

  “How nice for her.” Lena spared a thin smile, then cast a glance over her shoulder as though waiting for someone. A middle-aged gentleman joined her. He nodded at Nathan.

  Nathan extended a hand. “Tom.”

  The two men shook.

  “This is my wife, Ella. Ella, Tom Bradbury.”

  Ella exchanged pleasantries with the man under Lena’s watchful eye. “Are you enjoying our growing town?” he asked.

  “It’s nice here,” she replied. “I like it already.”

  “The theater will be finished by the end of summer,” he told her. “We’ll solicit operas and plays, and have nearly all the advantages of living East.”

  “The theater has been Tom’s pet project,” Nathan informed her.

  “We’re trying everything to attract more women and families,” the man replied. “Do you appreciate the opera?” he asked Ella. “Lena says she enjoys it.”

  “I’ve never seen one.”

  Lena met Ella’s gaze and held it as the men spoke.

  “Will you excuse us for just a moment?” Tom asked. “I want Nathan to hear something from Leland Howard.” The two men walked away.

  “Looks like you’ve landed on your feet,” Lena said once they were alone.

  “Marrying Nathan, you mean? He’s an admirable man,” Ella replied. “Kind to his children and employees, and generous with his time and attention.”

  “And of course rich,” Lena remarked.

  At her dry tone, Ella glanced at her. “He’s well-off, yes.”

  “I hope you’re using all of your resources to keep that man happy,” Lena said. “It would be a shame if he lost interest.”

  Ella didn’t appreciate her remark, and she had no idea what provoked it. Lena’s animosity had no basis that she knew of. They’d lived under the same roof back in Dodge, eaten dinner at the same table, but had barely exchanged a dozen words until heading West with the group. Ella sipped from her glass, and Lena moved into the crowd.