Bride School: Mary (The Brides of Diamond Springs Ranch 4)

by Bella Bowen

  And in the quiet darkness, as happened hundreds of nights before, the face of Rebel came to mind. Only this time, he wasn't any fifteen year old boy from her memory. He was full grown, alive and well.

  And he was out there somewhere, in Sage River. Maybe still awake. And just maybe, instead of thinking about the girl in his story, he was sparing a happy thought or two for the gal he'd told the story to.

  She shook her head against the pillow beneath her head and refused to allow her thoughts to wander further. It wasn’t right to borrow trouble, so she wouldn’t get herself worked up about what some man may or may not be thinking, even if he was the brown-handed boy. He wasn’t going to leave town until Friday, so if she had to sit on Fontaine to get her to listen to her story—a very brief version of her story—then she'd do it. Then she’d have the whole day to hunt him down and tell him the truth, that she was Mary Radley from Snowy Range. And if he didn't believe her, she'd find some way to prove it.

  A nice deep breath took the rest of her worries away and she pulled the blankets up to cover the cold tip of her nose before she fell into a content sleep.

  CHAPTER TEN

  How a sunny morning could be colder than the dead of night, Mary didn’t know, but she wrapped herself tighter in her blankets and hoped the shivering stopped before Millie thought to steal those blankets back.

  “You didn't tell me Fontaine recognized you.” Her friend’s voice cut through the quilt just before Mary was struck by the weight of a heavy pillow. “Get up. She wants to speak with all of us across the hall.”

  By the time she was clothed and decent, her teeth had stopped chattering, but her legs were stiff and stubborn.

  “Come on,” Millie whined. “There’s a big fire across the hall!”

  Mary stopped wrestling with her shoes, kicked them out of her way, then made a run for it.

  Dressed in their dancing clothes from the night before, the brides huddled together in a larger bedchamber. Millie hurried to join the others, but their expressions made Mary's bare feet drag to a stop. Wide worried faces stared back at her. Eyes darted from her, to Fontaine, then to the floor.

  Still in her coat, Fontaine sat in an ornate mahogany chair next to the roaring fire. Her hat hid her face, but no one would have believed the woman was asleep. Fontaine never slept in the company of others. No one would doubt a claim that Fontaine never slept at all. If her eyes were closed and she breathed deeply, her head would turn at the first noise, like a vigilant dog guarding a porch. Resting, maybe. But never asleep.

  It was clear none of the others was willing to break the silence.

  “We're all here, I think,” Mary said. But even though she'd hurt Fontaine's feelings the night before, she wasn't about to be bullied today. Today was a big day in her life, no matter what, and nobody was going to stop what needed to happen. “That is, if you meant for me to join you. Did you only want to speak with the brides, Fontaine?”

  Slowly the brim of the hat turned and rose. One painfully red eye looked at her long and hard before she faced the entire room. “We're snowed in. Good and snowed in. No one will be getting in or out of town for a few days—at least no carriages. And I’m not going to have the horses pull sleighs through four feet of snow when they don't have to.”

  Mary waited for someone to ask the question screaming in her head, but when no one did, she took it upon herself to say it. “And the gentlemen? Are they snowed in too?”

  Fontaine shrugged. “The menfolk can come and go as they please.” After an audible and collective sigh of disappointment, she continued. “Luckily for you, they want to stick around and woo women.”

  The mood lightened immediately, though the boss in the chair didn't seem to care.

  “Wait just a minute.” Hortense's eyes widened with horror. “You don't mean to say we have to wear the same clothes until the roads clear!”

  Fontaine snorted. “Of course not. You can trade with each other all you like.”

  The room erupted. A good half of the brides started shopping and planning. The other half looked on in confused amusement. Mary knew they thought like her—a woman only needed a good dress for the week and a better dress for Sunday. What did it matter if a man saw her in the same dress day after day?

  She shook her head and exchanged a knowing smile with Alice.

  “What are you smiling about, Alexandra?” Fontaine stood up and the room fell silent again.

  Those worried looks were back. Mary realized the others weren't so eager to stand beside her and confess they were party to her taking Alexandra's place. Their futures might be at stake if Fontaine thought to punish them in some way for what clearly appeared to be Mary's sin. And who knew what might happen to the Scotswoman?

  “It was all my idea,” Mary confessed to the room at large. The already quiet brides fell quieter still. “Alexandra wasn't feeling well and I begged her to let me take her place. It was this dress. It's perfect for me. I wanted to wear it and I wanted to dance in it. I was tired of dancing with women all the time.”

  “Fine,” Fontaine said with a nod. “You wanted to play the bride, so you can keep on playin’ the bride. There are eleven men waiting breakfast on you all. And they'll have twelve women to keep them company for the next few days.”

  Mary swallowed a large lump that had been building in her throat. “Eleven men?”

  Fontaine smiled a rather unflattering smile even for a female gunslinger who didn't seem to care what she looked like most of the time. “Yes,” she said. “You knew Mr. Hermann wasn't a customer. You couldn't have been expecting an invitation to tea with him, could you?” She watched Mary's face. “Besides, he left town this morning.”

  Mary couldn’t stop her distress from showing. Her chin might have been only an inch or two from the floor by the time her disappointment was complete.

  Why couldn’t the snow have kept him here too?

  “Said he had a train to catch, so he set out a day early.” Fontaine watched her closely for a few seconds, then moved behind her, headed to the door. “The men all met in the saloon early this morning while you all were lying in. Hermann lit out as soon as their business was done.”

  As the woman was reaching for the doorknob, Mary's voice returned. It held much less emotion than she expected.

  “You should have let me go find him last night,” she said.

  Fontaine looked into her eyes. “Would it have made any difference this morning? Other than ruining you, would it have made him stay?”

  Mary gasped. The women behind her were suddenly an unwelcome collection of ears.

  “Be careful, Fontaine,” she warned, “laying shame where there is none.”

  Fontaine snorted. “Yeah. And just remember it was me who kept you from it.” She took a step back to face Mary head on. “I won’t allow you to shame Mrs. Carnegie. So, for the rest of our stay in town, you are Alexandra Campbell, available for courtin’. No one is going to tell those men they've been cheated out of a twelfth option. No one is going to do anything that might shed Diamond Springs in a bad light, do you hear? After Mrs. Carnegie comes back from Denver, you can complain all you like.” She addressed the others. “But for now, everything by the rules. Weddings can take place on Saturday. The roads should be clear enough by then. If yer smart, a good number of you will be able to settle on one man and wheedle your way into his heart with the extra time.”

  “You can't force me to marry anyone,” Mary whispered.

  Fontaine smiled that nasty smile again. “Course not. But I can make you hate that dress…”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Strange. The morning air gave a clear, stinging warning to anyone who dared go outside that day. But there was something else—if not the actual smell of sunshine, then the promise of it. John would bet the farm the sun would appear by noon and he'd be shedding his coat before he ever reached the train for Denver.

  He'd already said good-byes to his parents, but he figured hugging his mother one more time wouldn't
hurt a thing.

  He climbed the steps.

  His mother's brow furrowed. “Did you forget something?”

  “Yes.” He gathered the small woman into his arms and pulled her tight. “Just thought one more of these would help me stay warm until the sun decides to show up.

  He pulled back and she worried at the scarf around his neck. “You promise me you won't freeze to death? Your horse is sound?”

  “He's sound, Mother.” He and his father exchanged a look of perfect understanding. A tear appeared on the old man's cheek, but he didn't bother pushing it away.

  “Next time, son.”

  John nodded. “Next time.”

  With a pair of snow shoes secured to the saddle just in case, John set out through town. It was so much easier leaving when he knew for certain he'd be coming back in a matter of months, not years. And when he did return, all the rough memories that had piled up between himself and his father will have melted with the snow. Nothing unpleasant would be waiting for him.

  With mothers, a simple embrace could make things right again. But with men, it wasn't so easy. With men, it was all about success. Prove your success, you prove your worth. Well, he'd proven it that morning. And after handing his father nearly a dozen significant orders for leather goods, along with the payment for those goods, he'd proven he wasn't all hat and no cattle. And while his father had been in shock, he'd explained how, after he'd put his tooling talents to work, he'd be collecting the same amount again, on delivery. That his “fiddling” made a saddle worth twice the price, and he had the wits to find people willing to pay for it.

  One product. Double the money. Profit for father. Profit for son.

  And that was only from a group of men he'd met two days before. One look at John's own saddle, and they'd clamored for a chance to buy the same. Then they'd been like kids in a Boston candy store.

  “What else can you do? What else can you do?”

  Jack Hermann had been impressed all right. But at the risk of sounding boastful, John had concealed the fact that he'd already done the same business half a dozen times over in the last year using Boston tanners to fill the orders. Putting money in his old man's hand was all the proof he needed to justify nearly every argument they'd ever had. No need to rub salt in old wounds.

  Besides, his father might not appreciate that John had purchased from other tanners whether or not the two of them had been on speaking terms.

  His horse picked its way down the main street without too much trouble. A few wagon tracks had packed the snow in a nice straight line out of town. As he neared the hotel, he looked up at the windows and imagined Miss Campbell on the other side. The mob of brides and would-be grooms were probably in the middle of breakfast. If he stopped in, he might have a word with the gal who had charmed him so thoroughly the night before. Maybe he could gaze just once more into the face that so resembled his Mary’s.

  But he didn’t have any good reason to seek her out. After all, neither of them were players in Mrs. Carnegie's marriage game. He did regret his clumsy goodbye the night before, but there had been others to help across that icy river of a road and no time to worry about niceties.

  Could check in on her without looking like a complete fool? After all, she couldn’t have gotten lost along the boardwalk between the road and the hotel with only the mercantile between them.

  But still…

  His horse stopped like he'd made up John's mind for him. Or maybe the beast was able to read his thoughts.

  “You have a nice safe trip, Mr. Hermann.” Fontaine leaned a shoulder against one of two pillars that stood to either side of Mrs. Kennedy's Hotel entrance. “And thanks again for your help.”

  John tipped his hat and gave a nod to the odd woman. She was dismissing him, clearly. Maybe she thought his appearance might be distracting when the ranch's male clients were fervently trying to win a bride. With a face like his, John had been dismissed before. But this time, he felt like arguing his case.

  “How is Miss Campbell this morning?”

  Fontaine shook her head. “Wouldn't know. Campbell's at the ranch.”

  In spite of the danger in travelling, it made sense. She wasn't interested in potential husbands, so she'd probably be glad to go on home.

  “I hope she didn't go out in that storm last night,” he said.

  “Of course not. Weather's been good this morning, though.”

  Although the conversation was pleasant enough, Fontaine’s eyes narrowed and he couldn't lose the impression the woman was displeased with him for some reason. But there was no sense pushing his way into the hotel if Miss Campbell wasn’t inside.

  Finally, he shrugged. “Well, I'll keep an eye out for her, make sure no one slid off the road.”

  “You just do that.” She straightened away from the pillar and sobered. “But just remember, Mr. Hermann, no men are allowed on the ranch. You accidentally step foot under that gate and you'll have your fool head shot off.”

  He nodded soberly. “Oh, I've been warned, Miss Fontaine.”

  She nodded once, then stared, showing no signs of going inside out of the cold. Obviously, the woman took her guard duties seriously. Maybe after he was gone, she could go get warm.

  He took pity on her, tipped his hat again, and prodded his horse on. When he reached the turn that would take him out the south end of town, he looked back. Fontaine was still standing where he'd left her, still watching him.

  Yes, the next time he came to Sage River, his parents—both his parents—would be happy to see him. But apparently Fontaine would not.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Breakfast at Mrs. Kennedy's hotel that morning was chaos.

  Lots of bodies. Lots of men and women pairing up. Lots of chatting. It was just like the dance the night before but the music in the air had been replaced by the smell of food. Lots of food. The heavy aroma of spicy sausage made Mary’s stomach turn in uncomfortable ways and she suspected her appetite had left town with John Tanner at first light.

  No one paid her much mind, for which she was grateful. She was in no mood for the kind of small talk filling the high-ceilinged room. The velvet paper on the walls could only absorb so much of the tinkling of fine utensils and high pitched merriment. But the women were barely familiar to her—nothing like the sleepy-eyed grumps she usually served breakfast. They’d all reversed roles and now she was the cantankerous one. Most mornings, she was the only female with a smile on her face until after the brides and students had emptied their coffee cups and filled their bellies.

  In the aftermath of the storm, the morning was cast in a gray-blue light that seemed a little more blue and a little less gray each time she looked at the large south-facing windows. Perhaps the roads would clear sooner than Fontaine had predicted and they could all return to the ranch.

  Mr. Sparks moved quickly away from the window. “She’s coming!”

  The room fell silent while at the same time, a number of people jumped to their feet. Suddenly there were men settling into the seats beside Mary, and they immediately tried to engage her in conversation. The murmur of voices resumed all around her and everyone acted as if nothing at all had just happened.

  She wondered what crucial conversation she might have missed while she’d been lost in thoughts of John Hermann.

  “Tell me about your father,” Mr. Sparks urged from her left. Then he gave her elbow a little squeeze.

  She looked pointedly at his hand, but he didn’t remove it. “You’re interested in my father?”

  The man’s eyes widened slightly. “I am. I’d like to know what kind of family you come from. Of course, it doesn’t really matter in the end. I mean, you are an intelligent, lovely girl. And I’m sure you’d be able to get along with just about anyone, wouldn’t you?”

  “Do you like children?” Mr. Charleston interrupted from the right. Across the table, a glance at Mr. Harris told her he was interested in the answer as well. “Children?” the first man asked again.

 
“Yes.” Mr. Sparks frowned at her. “You do want children…someday?” His eyes darted to the door and back, numerous times, like he was warning her that someone was listening.

  “Of course I’d like to have children someday.” She tried not to let her tone reveal how silly she considered his question to be. At the sound of someone clearing her throat behind her, she turned and found Fontaine frowning at her from the doorway. It was a warning. She was to play the role of a bride.

  And apparently, her answer to Mr. Charleston’s question was not enthusiastic enough for someone trying to land a husband.

  “I’d like to have as many children as possible,” she amended.

  Fontaine nodded.

  Mary rolled her eyes and turned back to her strangely attentive audience. How could she sit still for this madness when she clearly didn’t understand the game? Then she decided to play a game of her own.

  She looked gently down at Mr. Spark’s balding head and said, “But I’d like them to be tall.”

  The room fell silent again except for the sound of Hortense choking at the next table. After a few stunned breaths, Mr. Sparks burst out laughing. Everyone else followed suit.

  “Miss Campbell does have a quick wit,” she heard some man say.

  Mary looked around at the brides. None of them seemed to mind that all attention had suddenly turned to her. They wanted Fontaine to think Mary was playing her part, when obviously, they’d let the men in on her little secret!

  She turned in her seat and looked into Mr. Charleston’s smiling eyes. “You know?” she whispered.

  He leaned close to her ear. “Yes. We all know who you are, or rather, who you aren’t. Now, you should laugh as if I’ve said something particularly funny.”

  She tilted her head back and laughed with no need to pretend. She was so terribly relieved that none of these men were actually interested in proposing to her that her laughter was sincere. And when the conversation at the table carried on without her, she took the time to catch the eye of every other woman in the room and give them a wink or nod of thanks. And to prove her gratitude, she used the rest of the morning to point out their redeeming qualities to each gentleman that showed interest. After all, she’d known the brides for as long as they’d attended the school, not only for a day or two. And by the time the sun was high, she’d done an impressive bit of matchmaking.