Her Wyoming Man

by Cheryl St. John

  After finding himself something to eat, Nathan left the kitchen and sought out Ella where she sat at her piano. She created a stark contrast, delicate and feminine in shimmery white against the massive black instrument. He couldn’t have said which was more captivating: the sight of her enraptured by the chords and the flow of notes or the amazing sounds she produced with her delicate wrists and slender fingers coaxing magic from the ivory keys. Her appearance was angelic, her playing a heavenly sound.

  Watching her, he experienced a recurring thought: everything about her was perfect. She got along well with his children. She blended into their family and their household. His nanny and cook liked her, and she liked them. A cross word never left her lips, and she was appreciative of even the smallest thing.

  Of all the men who’d shown up to propose, how had he been so fortunate as to have her say yes? What great hand of fate had rested upon him with favor that day?

  His good fortune was overwhelming.

  The last notes faded away and Ella drew her hands from the keys to rest flat on either side of her hips on the mahogany bench.

  “I’ve never heard anything so beautiful,” he said.

  “Oh!” She turned, surprise registering. “I didn’t know you were there.”

  “I didn’t mean to startle you. You were pretty involved in that piece of music.”

  She shifted her knees around the bench, bringing to his attention her bare feet beneath the hem of her nightdress. Noticing his look, she tucked her toes back under the fabric. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

  “Quite the contrary. I enjoy your playing very much.”

  “I plan to start lessons on Monday.” She got up and turned back to close the lid over the keyboard. “I was thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “That I could give lessons to other children and add to the household income.”

  Her suggestion caught him by surprise, as did nearly everything about her. Did she have the idea that he was unable to provide for them adequately? “It’s a facet we’ve never discussed, these financial matters. But I’ve certainly never said anything about your shopping or expenditures that would make you think we have a need. I earn an adequate sum, Ella.”

  “I’m sorry I brought it up.” Turning away, she looked at the photograph where it stood on the round center table between Bach and Mozart. With a hesitant gesture, she indicated the composers and the table. “I purchased these things and the furniture with my own money.”

  Nathan absorbed that fact with more than a little trouble. “I…I just assumed you put your purchases on the accounts at the stores. I own a couple of those businesses, you know. I acquire stock at wholesale.”

  “They gave me wholesale prices,” she replied. “But I figured out the totals ahead of time, withdrew funds and paid cash.”

  Where had she come by that much money, and why had she spent it on furnishings? “Why?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  She faced him again and met his eyes with a cautious glance. “I wanted to bring something to our marriage.”

  Her words left an ache in his chest. She’d already brought so much. How could she think differently?

  “I never intended to insult your ability as a provider or head of the household.”

  “You didn’t insult me, Ella,” he said finally. “You humble me.” He took a few steps toward her, and she immediately met him and pressed into his embrace, her cheek against the front of his shirt. Her shoulders were slim and delicate, and her damp hair smelled fresh and uniquely spicy. Through the fabric of their clothing, her soft breasts crushed against his chest.

  Glancing over her shoulder, he spotted their portrait. The image of them together touched him. He tangled his fingers into her cool and silky damp hair and caressed her scalp.

  “I never knew a family would be like this.” She hadn’t meant for her voice to sound so husky or full of emotion. “I had no idea that I’d feel the way I do about having a husband.”

  He bracketed her shoulders and held her away so he could see her face. “And how do you feel about having a husband?”

  “Proud,” she replied quickly. Then with a smile added, “Confused.” Her smile faded. “And so frightened that I’ll make a mistake.”

  “Everybody makes mistakes.” He rested the backs of his fingers against her jaw.

  “And to be perfectly honest,” she added. “I feel as though you’re holding me at arm’s length, so that if I make too big of a mistake you can still change your mind about me.”

  Her revelation gave him pause. “Because of my court ship rule?”

  Her regret over admitting her lack of confidence was immediately recognizable in the way she averted her gaze and stiffened in his arms. She backed away.

  He caught her hand and didn’t let her go far. “You know why I set that date.”

  “I know you think it’s logical and necessary, and I respect your wisdom to make the choice.” That glimmer of vulnerability was gone, and she gave him a smile. “It’s late, and we have church in the morning.”

  Withdrawing her hand from his, she turned and left the room.

  When only her scent and the beguiling taste of her on his lips remained, he turned down the wicks in the lamps. He had a bad feeling that his hesitation was serving only to drive her away, and that was the last thing he wanted. He needed to rethink his plan. He couldn’t lose her.

  The following week, Ella introduced each of the children to the piano. Robby was the biggest challenge, but she chose to instruct him on his own level, regardless.

  At choir rehearsal, she learned that Lena and Tom Bradbury had taken a trip to Cheyenne, where they’d been married.

  “I wonder why they didn’t get married in Sweetwater and invite us,” Mildred mused aloud.

  Minnie served tea and passed the tray of lemon cakes. “If you ask me, she was in a hurry to tie the knot and didn’t want any interference.”

  “What do you mean?” Betsy asked.

  “I invited her to tea,” Minnie said. “And she turned up her nose like there was a bad smell in the room.”

  “She hasn’t attended church anywhere,” Betsy added. She glanced around sheepishly. “I checked the other denominations.”

  “I hope Tom knows what he’s doing,” Phoebe Crandall added. “He’s a good man.”

  The others nodded and clucked as though worried he’d joined himself to a problem wife.

  All along, Lena’s animosity had surprised Ella, but she wished the best for her. Not everyone escaped the life they’d once led unscathed.

  As that week moved into the next, Nathan and Ella accepted two more invitations and attended dinner parties. One evening, Ella spoke to Nathan about hosting their own. “I think the house is ready,” she told him. “The furnishings and decor will reflect well on you. I’ve been doing a lot of reading on the topic, and a candidate running for an office as important as governor should be building social relationships and showing the voters that his family looks up to him and that his morals are above reproach.”

  Nathan smiled at what seemed like her earnest desire to make a place for herself in their home and the community.

  “There is an intricate linkage between design and behavior,” she continued. “And when society recognizes your irreproachable good taste, they will trust you.”

  “All they need do is see you to recognize my good taste,” he teased and stole a kiss.

  “I am completely serious.”

  He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “I know. And I find it charming.”

  “We will select a date and I’ll send invitations, then.”

  With a pleasure he couldn’t have anticipated, he agreed. His first wife had never gone to such lengths to create an atmosphere in hopes of pleasing him or impressing his peers. Of course, Sweetwater had changed and grown even further since her death, so he couldn’t be entirely critical.

  But even taking the changes into consideration, he couldn
’t imagine that Deborah would have worked as diligently as Ella had to see that their home reflected favorably upon him. Ella had a determination and strength about her Deborah had never exhibited.

  The following Friday evening they attended a dinner at Carl and Athena Lawrence’s. Ella had only met the couple once or twice. They were older than most of the other pairs, and Athena spoke often of Carl selling the mill he owned so they could move back East.

  “I still have a sister in upstate New York,” she told Ella and Minnie. “I’d like to spend some time with her and once again enjoy city life before I die of old age and boredom here.”

  “Oh, Athena, you’re forever speaking of New York as though it’s the be-all and end-all of civilized existence,” her husband chided.

  “Because it is.” She clearly wasn’t amused.

  Ella glanced up and caught Nathan’s eye, recognizing his empathy for his friend. It was obvious that Carl had lived his life here in Sweetwater with a discontented wife who didn’t hesitate to make her displeasure known. Ella studied Athena, trying to comprehend her reasoning and sympathize with her misery. Ella didn’t know the story or the pain behind the woman’s desire to live elsewhere. She didn’t want to judge her, but it was difficult to understand how life here could be considered a hardship by any means.

  But life was subjective, as were people’s feelings and reactions, and she admonished herself to remember that.

  Tom and Lena had returned from their trip to Cheyenne, and the newlyweds were the center of attention as Tom shared the story of their decision to marry.

  Lena described the hotel where they’d stayed. “The food served in the dining room was incredible. Even the locals ate there. We need a hotel just as lavish here in Sweetwater,” she told the nearby guests.

  A maid spoke to Athena and their hostess announced dinner. Nathan caught Ella’s hand as she joined the guests headed for the dining room.

  “I’ve been thinking of something,” she said to him.

  “What is it?”

  “Celeste and Paul aren’t invited to these events. Would it be inappropriate for us to include them when we have our dinner parties?”

  “It’s our home, and she’s your friend. You may invite whomever it pleases you to invite.”

  “Thank you, Nathan.”

  He tugged her away from the others and guided her into an alcove. “Thank you,” he said to her.

  “For what?”

  “For every day,” he answered.

  Puzzled, she frowned.

  “For being content and for working so hard at making the children happy.”

  “I am content, and children deserve happiness. It takes very little to please them, actually.”

  “As it does you,” Nathan said.

  She didn’t understand entirely, but she knew he’d been affected by listening to their hostess. “Nathan,” she said, “what you’ve given me is not a small measure. I could never begin to tell you, but…” She held back unfamiliar emotion that threatened to well up in an embarrassing and revealing display. She couldn’t finish the sentence, and didn’t even know what she was going to say.

  Reaching for her, Nathan swept her close and held her gently against him, careful not to muss her beaded evening gown or her hair. She inhaled his scent of starch and soap and raised a hand to his jaw.

  He kissed her with a sweet, almost desperate passion that left her breathless and light-headed. When he released her, she steadied herself by grasping his arm.

  “Let’s go to dinner, Mrs. Lantry.”

  He turned and she changed her hold to slip her arm through the crook of his and let him lead her back to the dining room. The other guests had already been seated. Athena gave Ella a knowing smile and gestured for them to take their places.

  The past couple of weeks, Nathan had given a lot of thought to Ella’s words. She’d told him she felt he was holding her at arm’s length. She had quickly covered up hurt she didn’t want him to see, but the more he thought about it, the more he knew she was still uneasy about their relationship.

  Lately, when he thought about it, he’d known she was right. If he didn’t let her too close, she couldn’t reject him or his home or what he stood for.

  His constant comparisons to Deborah had only reinforced what he’d glimpsed from the very beginning. Ella was nothing like his first wife. He warned himself every day and chose to keep Deborah’s discontent foremost in his mind in all of his interactions with Ella. Holding his new wife to those standards had become decidedly difficult.

  And unfair.

  His need to be in control had become a safety measure devised to keep from disappointing her and therefore losing her. If he didn’t let her down, things should go on as they were.

  He barely tasted Athena’s savory beef or the tender vegetables in Hollandaise sauce. His attention remained on Ella. She visited with James Evans on her other side, occasionally answering his wife Mildred’s questions about French words.

  Ella took a few bites and lifted her gaze to Nathan’s. “Do you like asparagus?”

  “Yes.”

  “You haven’t touched yours.”

  He looked down and sliced a spear with the silver knife and fork.

  Dinner took forever, and when it was finished, Nathan joined the men in Carl’s study for an obligatory glass of brandy. Carl offered cigars and a few of the others accepted.

  When at last Carl suggested they join their wives, Nathan was the first one through the doorway.

  “Perhaps Ella will play something for us,” Phoebe suggested, gesturing to Athena’s lace-draped harpsichord.

  “Unfortunately, we need to get back to the children,” Nathan replied immediately. “Mrs. Shippen can’t stay late this evening.”

  “I’m dreadfully disappointed,” Athena said. “I haven’t heard you play yet, but I hear you are extremely gifted.”

  “You’ll all be receiving invitations to our home soon,” Ella told her and glanced at the others. “I’ll be glad to play something for you then. Mr. Lantry has purchased an exquisite piano. I’ve never played such a fine instrument.”

  The Olivers and the Iversons wished them a good night, and Athena handed Nathan his hat and Ella her shawl.

  “Thank you for the delicious meal,” Ella told her. “I only hope I can do half as well planning a menu.”

  “I’m sure you will, but if you should need any help, don’t hesitate to call on me.”

  Out of doors, Nathan took her hand as they walked along the brick street.

  “Mrs. Shippen can’t stay late this evening?” Ella asked. “I thought she was spending the night in the downstairs bedroom.”

  “I wanted to leave.”

  “Oh.” She looked away. Her heels clicked on the paving bricks. She glanced up at him. “Are you feeling ill?”

  “I’m perfectly well, thank you.”

  She didn’t recognize his abrupt mood, so she held her tongue and enjoyed the cool evening air and the sky full of stars. There wasn’t a cloud visible, and the heavens twinkled as though they were filled with multifaceted diamonds.

  Ella thought of Grace’s delight at hearing her play “The Star” and smiled. Spontaneously, she sang softly, “When the blazing sun is gone, when he nothing shines upon; then you show your little light, twinkle, twinkle, all the night.” She hummed it through again. “Some experts believe that Wolfgang Mozart wrote that song, did you know that?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “The original version was French, of course, but several versions have been arranged from that first melody, including one by Mozart.”

  “Your pretty head is stuffed with facts about explorers and composers.”

  Was he having fun with her now? She looked at him, but his smile wasn’t teasing.

  When they reached the house, Nathan unlocked the door and ushered her inside. “Go on upstairs. I’ll bring you warm water and a glass of sherry.”

  She almost told him she could get her own water, but th
e look on his face stopped her. She gathered her hem and hurried up the stairs. Mrs. Shippen had helped her with this particular dress, as the pearl buttons were tiny and the bodice formfitting. She could only reach partway and would need help.

  Plucking pins from her hair, she loosened the curls and let them fall around her shoulders, then brushed the tresses loose.

  A light tap sounded at the door, and Nathan pushed it open. He carried a pitcher behind the dressing screen, then went back out and returned with two glasses and a short square bottle on an ebony tray. He carried a half-full glass to Ella where she sat.

  She studied the pale liquid before taking a sip. “This isn’t as sweet. I like it better than the last.”

  “What do you know about sherry?” he asked.

  “I know it’s from Spain. May I see the bottle?”

  “I’ll be certain to keep a supply on hand.” He handed her the bottle and she read the label.

  “Only wine made from grapes grown in the Sherry Triangle can be called sherry,” she told him. “The wine is fortified with brandy sometime after the fermenting process.”

  “Explorers, composers and wine. You had an interesting education.”

  She handed the bottle back and he set it on the tray.

  She sipped from her glass. “When Ferdinand Magellan stocked up to sail around the world, he spent more money on sherry than he did on weapons.”

  “Must have been quite a trip.” Smiling, Nathan stepped behind her. “Stand up and I’ll get those buttons for you.”

  She did as he asked, and he worked them loose, inching his way down her spine until the back of the dress gaped open. “Do you know what that glass you’re holding is called?”

  She glanced at the tulip-shaped stemmed glass with its delicate bowl that narrowed at the top. “I don’t know.”

  “A copita,” he told her.

  “Spanish? Where did you learn that?”

  He grinned and then leaned to fill her glass again. “From the salesman in Denver who sold them to me. What kind of girls’ school teaches young ladies about wine?”