* * *
Garret guided Virginia down the aisle, stopped by a seat on the right side of the passenger car. “Do you have a preference, or is this seat all right?”
“It’s fine.” She edged over to the window and sat. “I like being far enough back in the car that I can see the scenery beyond the engine and tender. The country is so vast, I like watching it pass by when we have left the cities behind.”
The tension in his shoulders eased in response to her smile. She seemed to have relaxed since they boarded the train. He set their valises on the floor beneath their seat, placed his hat on top of his and unbuttoned his coat.
The whistle blew. A puff of steam drifted by the window. The train lurched, rolled ahead, and the station disappeared. Buildings came into view, then vanished. He watched her watching them go by, studied the gentle curve of her brow, the straight, fine line of her nose, admired the soft rose color of her full lips and her small round chin. A tinge of pink washed over her cheekbones. His breath caught. Was her blush because he was looking at her?
“I’d forgotten how beautiful you are.” He whispered the words low, for her ears alone. The blush deepened. Her head turned. She glanced up at him through her long lashes.
“Thank you.” She straightened the already straight edge of her coat, folded her hands in her lap and turned her gaze back to the window.
He made her nervous. He leaned back in the seat, savoring the knowledge, and watched the lantern-lit buildings outside the window give way to trees and fields bathed in moonlight.
“How is Mrs. Fuller?”
“She’s fine.” He looked at Virginia, watched her remove her hat and put it in her lap, noted her trembling hands. “Let me get that out of your way.” He took her hat and put it on her valise under the seat. “I’ve learned something about Mrs. Fuller since you’ve been gone. And something about myself.”
“Oh?” She pushed at the curls bunched at the crown of her head. “What is that?”
He shook his head, captured her gaze with his. “I have to tell you something first.”
Interest flashed in her eyes. She shifted on the seat to face him. He braced himself for her reaction.
“When I was ten years old, my mother disappeared. I woke the morning of my tenth birthday and found a cake in the middle of the table, but my mother was gone. That was eighteen years ago. I never saw her again.”
“Oh, Garret, I’m so sorry.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “How terrible to not know where your mother is, or—”
“I do know. I found out a few days ago.”
She stared at him. The bright blue of her eyes darkened. “How did you find out?”
He blew out a breath, scrubbed his hand over his neck. “I need to move around. Will you come out onto the boarding porch with me?”
“Yes, of course. I would like some fresh air.”
He rose, helped her from the seat and guided her to the front of the car. He held her arm, helped her out onto the small porch and stood so he would block most of the wind from her. The shadow of the overhanging roof blocked out the direct moonlight, but he could still see the gold of her curls and blue of her eyes when she looked up at him.
“You were saying?”
“Mrs. Fuller was frying doughnuts. Oil splashed up on her sleeve and burned her. When I went to help her, I saw a birthmark on her arm that I remembered from when I was a young boy.”
“When you were—Mrs. Fuller is your mother?”
He cleared his throat, caught in the emotion of that moment. “She admitted it then.”
She stared at him, her eyes as round as the moon above them. “But I don’t understand. If she knew, why didn’t she tell you?”
“She said the look in my eyes made her afraid.”
“Oh.”
His gaze captured and held hers. “Did I make you afraid, Virginia?”
“At first. Until I learned to know you...”
“And then?”
She shook her head, looked away.
“Don’t ever be afraid of me, Virginia. Not ever again.” He turned and leaned his back against the passenger car, braced his legs and pulled her close to him. “I love you.” He lowered his head and claimed her lips, tasted the salt of tears and felt her lips quiver. She went up on her toes, slid her arms around his neck and answered his love.
* * *
The metal wheels screeched in protest as they slid against the iron rails. The train shuddered, skidded to a stop. Virginia opened her eyes. She was snuggled in the curve of Garret’s arm with her head resting on his shoulder. She’d never felt as happy and safe in her life. She sighed and burrowed closer.
“Are you trying to climb into my pocket?” The low, growled words vibrated through Garret’s chest beneath her ear.
“Would you mind?”
“Um-hmm. I’d rather have you in my arms.” Garret opened one eye and looked down at her.
She smiled up at him, glanced at the other passengers and lowered her voice to a whisper. “We’ve stopped to take on water and fuel. Go back to sleep.” She pushed with her free hand against his chest. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Don’t move—unless it’s closer.”
“That’s not possible.”
He looked at her. Her cheeks flamed. She turned her head to look out the window. The papers in his pocket crackled. She patted them. “Would you take these out of your pocket, please? They’re noisy when my head is resting against them.”
He nodded, slipped his free hand into his vest pocket and pulled them out. “Why did you write me this letter, Virginia? Did you really want to annul our marriage?”
“Of course not!”
The man in the next seat snorted. She looked at him, waited until he began snoring again, then continued. “When I left to go back to New York with Father, you didn’t try to stop me. You said I should go, that it would be best. So I thought you were unhappy with me and would want to be free to—to wed another.” She sat upright and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “And I wanted you to be happy. So I sent the letters. And then when Father saw how unhappy I was without you, he said I should go back to Whisper Creek and work things out. But it was too late. I’d already posted the letter.”
She sighed, looked out the window. “That’s when Father sent a telegram to Blake Latherop, telling him not to deliver the letter to you, but to send it back to me. So I started packing. Of course, we didn’t know the telegram never reached Blake Latherop.”
“That’s why your trunk was packed? You were coming back to Whisper Creek?” He shook his head, grinned. “I don’t believe it.”
“I can prove it.”
“How?”
The train lurched, rolled forward and picked up speed. She lifted her reticule off the seat and reached inside. “Here you are—proof.”
He stared at the ticket for one to Whisper Creek, Wyoming, sucked in a deep breath and took hold of her hand. “Come with me. I suddenly need some fresh air.”
“Air, sir?” Her eyes sparkled up at him.
He led her down the aisle again, out onto the small platform, pulled her into his arms and kissed her until she was breathless and trembling.
“Will you be my wife, Virginia? My true wife?” His voice was low, husky, his breath warm against her skin. “No more in-name-only marriage, but a true one. Will you love me? And have my babies? And wake up next to me every morning for the rest of our lives?”
“Yes! Oh, yes, Garret. I love you so much.” She threw her arms around his neck and returned his kisses.
The train lurched, swept around a curve. Garret turned her around, pulled her back against his chest and raised his hands. “We won’t need these anymore.” He handed her one of the letters and held the other. Moonlight flickered on their hands as they tore the papers to bits, then opened their fingers and let the
wind blow the tiny pieces of their hurtful past away.
* * *
The train snaked through the tall grasses of the prairie, a storm its only company. The wind swooped and howled, whipped the tall brown stems of grass into a frenzy. The gloomy, overcast day held a chilly dampness that penetrated the warmest clothes. The heating stove offered little comfort.
She stared out the window at the distant mountains that rose like a formidable wall from the prairie floor—a barrier to keep them from reaching home. Rain splattered against the glass, turned to snow and obstructed her view. She shivered, turned her gaze on Garret.
He pulled her closer against him. “Are you warm enough? Do you want me to ask for a blanket?”
“No, I’m fine. I was wondering if we should send a telegram to Mrs. Fuller, to let her know when we will arrive. But with this weather, that might not be wise.”
“I think it’s a good idea. I’ll send one at the next stop.”
“All right. I—” She gasped and brushed at the window with her hand. “Are those buffalo out there?”
He leaned close, peered outside. “Those are buffalo, all right. Let’s hope they don’t have a sudden itch to scratch and use the next telegraph pole.”
“Or decide to bed down on the tracks ahead to wait out the storm. No one could move one of those huge beasts.”
“Well, I can think of worse things than to be stranded with you.” He grinned at her blush, leaned back against the seat and pulled her close.
The train rolled onward, clattering over the iron rails. The snow hardened to pellets that peppered the windows and rattled on the roof. At the gap in the mountain wall, the train stopped to take on wood and water.
“Let’s hope the telegraph is working.” Garret pulled on his hat and gloves and hurried outside. He dropped down off the platform and ran to the station through stinging hail driven by the prairie wind.
“Can I help you, mister?”
“I want to send a telegram.”
“There’s the form. Just write out yer message an’ I’ll get it on its way.”
“Thank you.” He picked up the pen, wrote out the message and handed the form to the short, wiry telegrapher.
Mrs. Ruth Fuller
Stevenson Hotel
Whisper Creek, Wyoming Territory
Mother. You are right. Love is far stronger than anger.
Happier than we ever thought possible.
Arrive tomorrow late afternoon. If all goes well.
Eager to see you.
Garret and Virginia
“Let’s see now...” The man counted the words, scribbled some figures on a pad and looked up at him. “That’ll be seventy-eight cents.”
Garret handed him the coins. The man limped over to his stool and started clicking the key.
“How do you know if the message goes through?”
“The telegrapher who gets it answers.”
“I see.” The man was still sitting at the table clicking the key when the train whistle blew. Garret pulled up his collar and ran back to the railway, swung up onto the platform and opened the door. Wind swirled into the car, threw the stinging white pellets against the walls and seats and floor. He stepped inside.
The conductor put his shoulder against the door and shoved it closed, hurried to the heating stove and threw in some chunks of the wood they’d loaded into the wood box.
The train lurched, the couplings clanged and steam hissed by the window. Garret strode down the aisle, swaying side to side as the passenger car rolled down the track. He smiled at Virginia. “Nasty weather out there.”
She looked at the hail pinging against the window glass and nodded. “Did the message go through?”
“I can’t say. The telegrapher was still sending it when I had to board.” He took off his gloves and shoved them in his coat pocket, rubbed his hands together. “There was no place to buy food. We’ll have to wait until the next stop.”
She nodded and patted the cover spread over her legs. “I asked for a blanket while you were gone. Sit down beside me and get warm. I have something to show you.”
“What is it?”
She waited until he was beside her on the seat, then handed him the folder. “Do you remember the first night during the blizzard, when you mentioned how dependent Whisper Creek is on the trains for its food supplies? And you said you were thinking of perhaps investing in a cattle ranch to alleviate that problem?”
“I do.” He grinned and opened the folder. “And if I remember correctly, you told me I should buy a ranch.”
Her cheeks went pink. “Well, either way, I thought some of these newspaper and magazine articles about ranching might interest you.”
“Hmm, trying to turn me into a cowboy, are you?”
She shook her head, her curls bobbing, and gave him a saucy smile. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I like you just the way you are.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Chapter Twenty
Her husband. In a true marriage. Her stomach fluttered. A tingle chased along her nerves. Virginia put down her fork and looked across the rough plank table at Garret. She could never get enough of looking at him. Of listening to him talk. Or watching him eat, or drink his coffee. He glanced up from his plate and their gazes met. The flutter got stronger. The tingle more intense.
“You’re not eating.” A frown creased his brow. “The conductor said this is the last place that serves hot food until after the train climbs the steep mountains up ahead.”
“I know. I’ve had enough.” She smiled. “I’m saving my appetite for Mrs. Fuller’s cooking. I’ve missed her so much. Oh.”
“What is it?”
“I just thought...what am I to call her? ‘Mrs. Fuller’ seems too formal an address now.”
“I’m sure she’d like you to call her Mother. She already loves you like a daughter.”
Garret’s smile settled in her heart. She blinked a rush of tears from her eyes. “I hope that’s true. But I don’t want to presume. I’ll let her tell me. And meantime, perhaps I could call her Mother Fuller.”
The train whistle blew. Garret tossed two coins on the table, stepped close and placed his hand at the small of her back. “Ready?”
She nodded, braced herself for the force of the wind and the sting of the hailstones. He opened the door, put his arm around her shoulders, and together they ran for the train. He lifted her onto the small platform, grabbed the railing and hopped up beside her. He backed her against the end of the passenger car and shielded her from the pelting sleet with his body while he opened the door.
The warmth of the heating stove felt good. She slid into their seat, waited until he unbuttoned his coat and joined her. He slipped his arm around her, and she smiled and lowered her head to rest on his shoulder. His arm tightened. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. His hand closed over hers, big and warm and strong. She sighed, closed her eyes and listened to the tapping of the hailstones on the roof.
* * *
A hard jolt woke her. She stirred and pushed erect to look out the window. They were slowing, coming into Laramie station. “Do you feel better since you rested? You haven’t had much sleep on this trip.”
She glanced at Garret and smiled. “I’ve had as much as I wanted.” His grin made her heart skip.
The car door opened and the conductor stepped inside. “Next stop, Laramie.” He stepped back out the door.
The whistle blew. The train wheels locked, squealed, slid to a stop.
The passengers rose, made their way toward the door.
“Are you hungry? Do you want to get something to eat, Virginia?” Garret stretched his long legs out into the aisle. “We’ve still a ways to go.”
“No, I’m fine.” She glanced at the line of people filing out the door. “If you don’t mind, I would like to
take advantage of the empty dressing room and freshen up before we get home.” She smiled at Garret. “My, but that sounds nice...home.”
He nodded and rose, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders. “I’m going to go for a quick walk to get rid of these cramped muscles.” He leaned down and kissed her, pulled her close and kissed her again. “You are far too enticing, Mrs. Stevenson.” He kissed the tip of her nose and strode out the door.
She pulled her valise from under the seat and hurried to the dressing room. A good brushing would free her long curls to hang down her back. Garret preferred them that way. He’d never said so, but she could tell from the look in his eyes. Oh my, the look in his eyes! She smiled, pulled her flower-scented soap and lotion from her valise and pumped some water into the washbowl.
* * *
“What a beautiful day! And it’s so warm. After going through that hailstorm on the prairie, I can’t believe the sun is shining.”
Garret grinned at Virginia. “Whisper Creek is on her best behavior to welcome you home. Here, let me help you with your coat.”
He lifted the coat she had unbuttoned from her shoulders, and draped it with his over the two valises sitting on top of her trunk. “Asa, have these put on Mr. Latherop’s delivery cart. I’ll get them from him.”
“Yes, sir.” The stationmaster gave her a smile. “Welcome home, Mrs. Stevenson.”
“Thank you, Mr. Marsh.” She returned his smile, then couldn’t resist adding, “Are there any telegrams for Mr. Stevenson?”
“No, ma’am, but there’s one for you.” He handed her a telegraph form, bobbed his head and went back to work.
She looked down at the form and smiled. “It’s from Father. He says welcome home. He will come and visit us in two weeks.” She grinned. “He is coming for a piece of Mrs. Fuller’s apple pie.” She tucked the form in Garret’s vest pocket and patted it. “Your mother’s cooking and baking is becoming famous. Oh, I can’t wait to see her!”
He took her elbow and helped her down the platform steps, then held her hand. Passengers from the train rushed by, hurried along the snow-spotted dirt road ahead of them and entered the hotel.
Mail-Order Bride Switch Page 21
