The Cowboy's Orphan Bride

by Lauri Robinson

  “Me, too, Garth. Me, too.”

  He might have kissed her right then; his face had been inching toward her, but a loud sigh had him glancing at the open doorway. Franklin’s daughter stood there, with one hand pressed to her chest and stars in her eyes.

  Bridgette pulled her hands from his and stepped toward the door. “Thank you, Chrissy. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome, ma’am,” the girl said with a sigh. “You two look so beautiful together. Like a prince and princess or a king and queen. I hope you have a wonderful time at dinner.”

  Brought back to his senses and the reason they were both gussied up, Garth asked, “Can you tell us where the Buffalo Run is located?”

  “Several blocks north of here,” Chrissy answered. “You take Front Street all the way to Third Avenue. Turn left and go two more blocks. It’ll be on your right.”

  “Thank you.” Turning to Bridgette he asked, “Are you ready to leave?”

  She nodded. At least he assumed she did. All he really saw was her smile, and it nearly knocked him out of his new boots. Keeping his boots on, and attempting to clear his head, he took her arm and headed for the door.

  He needed air. Fresh air. Cold air to cool off his loins which had grown sweltering beneath his new britches.

  Mr. Franklin met them at the foot of the stairway. The woman beside him had to be Mrs. Franklin because she was an older version of Chrissy who’d hurried down the steps in front of Bridgette and him.

  “We hope the two of you have a lovely evening at the Buffalo Run,” the man said. “And please, if you’re so inclined, do let your guests know we have a full-service dining room here at the Dodge House.”

  Bridgette must have had a clearer head than he did, because she spoke instantly. “Of course we’ll let them know. As well as the other amenities you provide your guests. Chrissy’s assistance couldn’t have been better.”

  “You look beautiful, Mrs. McCain,” the older woman said. “Simply beautiful.”

  Garth could easily agree to that, and did. “Yes, she does. Thank you, for all your assistance.” Still holding Bridgette’s arm, and still needing air, he steered her away from the Franklin family and toward the door.

  Once on the boardwalk, he paused to catch his bearings.

  “North is that way,” Bridgette said.

  “I know,” he answered, even though, still a bit off-kilter, he hadn’t been exactly sure. “I was just giving you a chance to catch your breath.”

  “I don’t need to catch my breath.”

  “I didn’t either,” he said, putting his feet in motion.

  Before they reached the end of the block, she said, “If you keep walking this fast, we’ll both need to catch our breath, or be breathing like we ran the entire way.”

  “Gotta cross the road while the coast is cleared,” he said, hurrying through the intersection. Then he slowed his pace. “Better?”

  She nodded. “Who did you say we are meeting for dinner?”

  “Nathan Solstead.”

  “And he is?”

  “The president of the cattle association.”

  “Have you known him long?”

  Garth had never been one to lie or stretch the truth, so he said, “Since this morning.”

  “Is he new to town?”

  “I don’t think so. He has a ranch nearby.”

  “Then why haven’t you met him before?”

  It had always been like this between them, her asking questions and him answering. “I’ve only been in Dodge once before.”

  She’d stopped dead in her tracks and a frown twisted her face.

  “Last year,” he explained more thoroughly, “After the drive, I visited Dodge before heading back to Texas. Wanted to explore the Great Western Trail.”

  She was still frowning. “Didn’t your drive last year end here? In Dodge?”

  “No. It ended in Wichita.”

  “Wichita?”

  Feeling eyes on him, he glanced up and down the street. A few folks were looking their way, and he gave her arm a slight tug, to get her walking again. “Yes, Wichita. That’s where Malcolm Johansson, the man I worked for, always sends his cattle to. But when it came to my own, I chose Dodge.”

  She’d started walking beside him, but her slowness said she was thinking hard about something or another. “So, you’ve never driven cattle past Hosford before?”

  “No. Not until a few days ago. Why?”

  “Just curious.” With a wave of one hand, she said, “Here’s Third Avenue.”

  They made the corner and kept walking. She’d grown solemn, and in an attempt to lighten the mood, he pointed out a few things that might catch her interest—the gas streetlights and pots of flowers on several corners. She responded, but her thoughts were elsewhere. So were his. “The topic is bound to come up, Bridgette.”

  “What topic?”

  “How you came to be staying at the Crystal Palace. I don’t want to get caught in the middle of something I don’t know anything about.”

  She stopped again, and it was just as well. He could see the Buffalo Run, a three-story building, across the street less than a block away. Finely dressed men with women on their arms were strolling in and out.

  “I believe you’re already caught in the middle of it,” she said, looking up at him solemnly. “We both are. And I’m sorry about that.”

  “So how’d you come to doctoring one of those girls? I’m assuming Dr. Rodgers didn’t send you.”

  “No, he didn’t. I accidently bumped into Ellen while she was looking for a doctor. She is the kitchen girl who works at the Crystal Palace, and said one of the girls was extremely ill. I went with her to see if I could help, and Willow ended up offering me room and board for my services.”

  That all sounded innocent enough. “Why did you tell them—”

  “That I was Mrs. McCain?” She bowed her head regretfully. “It just slipped out when Willow said I could work for cash at her place. I told her I was married, and that was the name that just popped out.”

  “Popped out?”

  “Yes. I didn’t deliberate on it. I didn’t mean to put you in this position. Mrs. McCain just popped out without any conscious thought.”

  The sincerity along with a glimmer of regret in her eyes tugged at him, made him want to pull her close and tell her it was all right. That no harm had been done, but harm had been done. He wasn’t a liar, and pretending she was his wife was a lie. One that threatened to deny him all he’d worked so hard to gain over the years. The cattleman’s association, the stockyards, even the slaughter houses wouldn’t respect a man who lied, even about as unimportant a thing as being married.

  He had half a mind to turn around, take her back to the hotel and then go to dinner by himself—tell Solstead the truth, but at that exact moment, Nathan Solstead waved their way before he assisted a woman, obviously his wife, out of a buggy.

  “Come on,” he said, directing Bridgette forward again. “That’s Mr. and Mrs. Solstead entering the restaurant.”

  Bridgette started walking again, and willed herself to remain in control of her nerves. A moment ago she’d been ready to tell him that she couldn’t go through with it. Couldn’t pretend to be his wife. It had been one thing just to assume his name, but an entirely different thing to have to act the part. Knowing Garth hadn’t been traveling through Hosford for the last eight years, that he’d been way over on the eastern side of the state, should have lightened some of the animosity she’d built toward him. But it hadn’t. Wichita wasn’t that far away. Not if he’d really wanted to find her.

  He hadn’t wanted to find her. All those years she’d spent waiting for him truly had been for naught. All her memories that he’d been the only person to care for her had been wrong, too. Knowing that increase
d her anger.

  So did walking beside him. He’d had always been handsome, but dressed in the three-piece suit, he was downright striking. The most striking man on earth. Looking at him took her breath away, and she found it hard to think of anything else. Yet, she had to. She couldn’t risk him taking a hold of her heart again.

  She regretted saying her name was Mrs. McCain, but what she’d told him, how the name had just popped out of her mouth was exactly what had happened, and she knew why. From the moment he’d pretended to marry her back at the orphanage, that was who she had seen herself as, who she believed she’d truly become someday. Mrs. Garth McCain. She knew better now.

  “We’re here.”

  Bridgette grabbed Garth’s hand as he reached for the door handle. She’d never been this nervous. “I can’t do this.”

  “We don’t have a choice,” he said quietly.

  As she shook her head, he glanced around and drew a deep breath before saying, “It’s about time you learned to face the consequences of your actions.”

  If they hadn’t been in public, and if he hadn’t grasped her arm to propel her forward, she’d have left him standing in the doorway. As it was, they were both in the entranceway where a man with black muttonchops waved them forward.

  “Just behave,” Garth whispered as he led her toward the couple.

  At that moment, her anger turned into a desire for revenge stronger than ever before. Behave? Oh, she’d behave all right. She’d show him just how lucky he could have been if he’d kept his promise to her. Living with so many different families had shown her what perfect wives did and didn’t do. She was going to be the most perfect one ever—and make him regret that she would never be his.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Although she’d never been out to dinner in a fancy restaurant—and this was certainly the fanciest one Bridgette could imagine—nor had she ever worn such finery, or pretended to be married, she was an adaptable person. Life had made her that way right from the start, and that helped considerably as they joined the other couple.

  She smiled and used her manners, and made sure to look at Garth with an expression as close to the lovesick one Emma Sue had cast toward Cecil Chaney as she could muster.

  It helped that the Solsteads were friendly and good people, and made her feel comfortable from the moment she sat down. They had five children, three boys and two girls, who had to be as pleasant as their parents. “Lydia sounds like a handful,” she told Mr. Solstead as he finished a detailed and animated tale about their youngest daughter hiding a baby skunk under her bed.

  “Oh, she is,” Mrs. Solstead said. “She gets that from her father.”

  The way Virginia Solstead looked at her husband made Bridgette’s stomach flutter oddly and made her question her acting abilities. Although the gazes she bestowed upon Garth were similar to how Virginia gazed at her husband, it was obvious that even though the couple had been married many years, they were still very much in love. Nathan returned his wife’s gaze with a smile. Garth on the other hand, narrowed his eyes her way, telling her he knew what she was up to.

  She lifted her glass and smiled over the rim at him. He might think he knew her, but he didn’t. She was no longer the girl he’d left behind. She was the woman he’d never possess.

  “Do you have any children?”

  Caught swallowing, Bridgette merely shook her head at Virginia’s question.

  “We haven’t been married long enough for children,” Garth said.

  She wouldn’t call it disappointment, but there was a distinct tone in his voice that wavered on displeasure. She wasn’t overly happy herself.

  “They will come in time,” Virginia said. “How long have you been married?”

  “Over twelve years,” Bridgette said.

  The shock on all three of their faces made her giggle. “Garth and I grew up in the same town and pretended to get married when we were both just children.”

  A round of laughter encircled the table, before Virginia asked, “Did you travel to Dodge with the trail drive?”

  “No,” Bridgette started, “I—”

  “Bridgette stayed with friends the past couple of months,” Garth said. “The wife was expecting and needed help. She traveled to Dodge after the baby was born.”

  “Oh, are you a midwife?” Virginia asked. “We have two excellent physicians, but they are kept busy. Your services would be most welcomed by many families.”

  Their food arrived right then, and Bridgette used the time it took to be served to contemplate what Virginia had said. Although never called one, she most certainly was a midwife. A tingle of excitement shot through her. Being a midwife would explain why she was at the Crystal Palace, considering Michelle’s unfortunate miscarriage, and it was the perfect job for her to obtain. Following suit, she picked up her fork and knife, and began to eat while wondering how much she should charge for her services.

  “How is your chicken?” Garth asked near her ear. Once again there was a distinct tone in his voice. And she didn’t like it one bit.

  Her hand paused briefly as she sliced off a piece of leg meat. Glancing up, she smiled at the scorn in his eyes. “Fine. How is your steak?”

  “Excellent.” His gaze left her. Smiling at Nathan Solstead, Garth said, “The steak is excellent.”

  As the man nodded, his wife said, “The Buffalo Run only serves beef from our ranch.”

  The couple shared another loving gaze. Bridgette poked another forkful of chicken into her mouth.

  “If the beef is all this good,” Garth said, slicing off another section of his steak. “I understand why.”

  The square table, covered with a white linen-and-lace tablecloth and hosting a single tapered candle in the center along with a vase of flowers, had them each sitting at a side, and Nathan Solstead leaned slightly toward Garth.

  “Two of the men sitting at that table near the window are Jim Green and Howard Knight of the Eastman Packing House,” Nathan said. “The other two are Wayne Hammerman and David Latham of the Riverside Slaughter House in Chicago.”

  Bridgette may not have followed Garth’s gaze toward the men if she hadn’t noticed the tick in his cheek. She’d forgotten about that. How the one side of his face would twitch when he was irritated. Considering how mad he’d been at her the past few days, it should have been twitching nonstop.

  “They must be sampling the Solstead beef they will soon be purchasing,” Virginia said.

  Bridgette noted another significant sign. Nathan smiled at his wife, but this time there were no sweet nothings flashing in his eyes. With a tiny shiver crawling across her shoulders, she turned to Garth. He was studying the men, as if memorizing exactly what they looked like and it wasn’t because he was impressed.

  As dinner progressed, an underlying current surrounded the table. Bridgette witnessed Virginia cast several curious glances at her husband and how Nathan ignored them. She’d lived with enough families to know there would be a discussion at the Solstead house tonight. There would be between her and Garth, too. There was far more going on here than he’d let on.

  Despite the undercurrents, their meal remained pleasant, as did the company, and following a dessert that was topped off with ice cream that literally melted in her mouth, they all took their leave. At the door, Virginia insisted they should have dinner together again soon, and invited them to visit the Solstead ranch to meet their children.

  Garth nodded, but made no promises.

  Withholding a sigh at his lack of manners, Bridgette smiled. “That would be lovely, and thank you again for the charming evening.”

  “Our pleasure,” Nathan said. “Good night.”

  The other couple walked to their waiting buggy and Bridgette waited until she and Garth were a block away before asking, “What was that all about?”

&nb
sp; The sun had set, but the gas streetlights lit the boardwalk, and provided plenty of light to see the scowl on his face. “What were you thinking ordering chicken?”

  Stunned into a stupor, it was a moment before she could respond. “What?”

  “You ordered chicken to eat.”

  “I like chicken.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  His long strides were making her stretch each step to keep up. “Then what is?”

  Without answering, he kept marching forward.

  Flustered, she grabbed his arm. “Slow down.”

  He stopped and the scowl remained on his face. “We were having dinner with the man who supplies the beef to the restaurant and you ordered chicken.”

  A response to that simply wouldn’t form, but one to the anger building inside her did. “Can I not do anything right in your eyes?” Not wanting to hear his answer, whatever it might be, she started forward, swiftly. “I know you were raised in an orphanage where no one cared if you lived or died, and that your mother ran off with a sailor, leaving you to fend for yourself on the streets of New York.”

  Garth grabbed Bridgette’s arm to make her stop. This didn’t have anything to do with his mother or how he was raised.

  She spun around. “I know all that because I was there, too. No, my mother didn’t run off, she died. Leaving me an orphan no different than you.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “That’s why we became family. Because we had no one else and promised we’d always be there for each other.” She swiped at a tear on her cheek. “It worked for us. We were there for each other, and could be again. You’d see that if you’d quit being such an overbearing oaf.”

  The misery on her face made something inside him surrender; he wasn’t sure what it was, but rather than anger, a softness overtook him, along with memories. He’d never forgotten about their pretend marriage ceremony. It had happened after she’d broken her arm and he’d been punished because Mrs. Killgrove was convinced he’d put her up to running away. Along with the memories and the softness inside him came a form of possessiveness he’d only known when it came to her. The appreciation other men had in their eyes when they saw her in the restaurant had filled him with pride. She was beautiful and the way she’d looked at him during dinner, almost as if he’d hung the moon just for her, had made him wish he had. It had made him wish for other things, too. Things that couldn’t be.