by Bella Bowen
The south entrance to Sage River continued north for only a few blocks before it ended on the main street.
Nathaniel turned to the right and stopped the wagon. “I'll let you off here, Lizzy.” He jumped down and hurried around to take her things out of the back, then he set them up on the boardwalk. She’d barely been able to walk and had just reached the step before when the team started moving again. Nathaniel's wife, driving the second wagon, lifted her hand to wave, then her hand kinda froze in the air. The woman shook her head frantically, then wiped at her face. Lizzy thought maybe a bee had bit her.
Just down the street, the stagecoach was loaded and heading out again, and she thanked heavens she wasn't on it, cushions and all.
If Diamond Springs Ranch wasn't far, she might just consider walking, she was that tired of sitting.
Anderson's Mercantile, it said above the building at her back. A woman and young daughter came bustling out the door with their arms full. The little girl glanced her way and laughed before her mother tugged her off in the other direction.
Lizzy wiped at her nose, just in case there was a bit of mud on it.
Down the way and across the street was the sheriff's office. She wondered if she should ask there to see how far away the ranch was. But she simply was not ready to head out on the road again, even if that road to her ultimate destination. What she needed was a drink to wash the dust from her throat and a bite to eat. She'd already gone through every crumb in her food sack, and she'd eaten about as much salt tack as she could stomach. But she still had a few coins her aunt had pressed into her hand before putting her on the train. Just in case,” the woman had said. But now that Lizzy had arrived in Sage River, she wouldn't have much use for the money. Mrs. Carnegie would cover all her needs, and after she left Diamond Springs, her new husband would do the same.
Butterflies rose and beat their wings in her stomach at the thought. Suddenly, she wasn't hungry anymore.
A fancy stage pulled down the street, headed her way. All heads turned to watch it. Even the squeak of the wheels sounded expensive, and the carriage box must have been heavy to need eight horses to pull it. She wouldn't have been surprised if four people could stretch out, end to end, and sleep like babies while they traveled, it was that big. And the luggage on top wasn't left open to the weather, it was covered.
The whole lot stopped in front of the sheriff's office and Lizzy held her breath waiting to see what kind of people would step out of it. The driver folded down two steps, then opened the door. A large bundle of light brown clothes emerged and then stretched into the shape of a man. A very tall man, with broad shoulders and a city-styled hat with a flat brim. He closed the door behind him, then went up the steps and into the building.
With the excitement over and done, Lizzy looked around again. A young man came loping down the boardwalk, and she waved her fingers to get his attention.
“Do you know how I get to the Diamond Springs Ranch from here?
He stopped abruptly, peered into her face with narrowed eyes, then he chuckled. “You ain’t a new bride?”
Lizzy raised her chin a little. “Yes.”
He grinned and pointed further down the street. “Down at the saloon. Ask for Fontaine.”
“The saloon? You can't be sincere. I can't go in there.”
He shook his head. “Alright then. I'll do it.” He picked up her large bag and stepped down to the dirt. “Come on then.”
Lizzy figured he didn't treat her with more respect for the simple fact he probably thought they were the same age. Though she was eighteen, she looked a bit younger still. Even so, she couldn't help feeling disappointed. Perhaps when she had washed the dust out of her hair, she'd earn a little more respect.
The boy set her bag down outside the saloon and ducked inside. The swinging doors were green and appeared freshly painted. For that matter, the whole town looked freshly painted and scrubbed clean. Maybe there’d been a recent rain.
Lizzy waited nervously. She'd never been so close to such an establishment before, and if her uncle had any idea...
The boy returned to her with laughter still in his eyes. “Fontaine ain't here, but she'll be back.” He picked up her bag again and headed inside. “There's a table where you can wait. Nobody'll bother you. Not in Sage River, they won't.” He disappeared and Lizzy had no choice but to follow since he'd taken her things.
There were only three men in the place—the man behind the bar and two men at a table on the opposite side of the room. They were bent over, consulting papers on the surface between them, too busy with their own concerns to notice her. The boy put her bag down next to a small table near the window, pointed to the chair, and tugged on the front of his hat before he headed back outside again.
Lizzy eyed the chair, then looked at the man behind the bar. He gave her a smile and a nod, then her frowned.
She walked over to the window and stood looking at the street unwilling to sit in the hard wooden chair and in no mood to be frowned at again. A minute later, she heard footsteps coming and held her breath, but didn't turn.
“Thought you might like some water.” The bartender handed her a glass and a napkin. He wrinkled his nose and smiled. “And here’s a napkin, if you want to use it.”
“Yes. Thank you,” she said, grateful he wasn’t frowning anymore.
The water was clean and just what she needed. She emptied the glass, dried her mouth, and set the cup and napkin on the table before returning to the window again.
She had a better view of the fancy carriage. It bobbled on its springs as woman exited on the far side. When her skirts reached the ground, Lizzy was tempted to hurry outside to get a better look at the rest of her dress. The fabric was a reddish brown with fancy gold leaves that reflected a bit of the afternoon sun. But surely it wasn’t real gold.
When the woman appeared up on the boardwalk in front of the sheriff’s office, she was sporting a matching red hat, and the gold feather that waved over the crown showed no signs of road dust. She stood conversing with the tall man who'd shared her carriage, and another man who was just as tall but sported a black cowboy hat. She couldn't see much of their faces.
The couple returned to the carriage. Half a minute later, the man walked around the carriage alone and headed for the saloon doors.
Lizzy didn't think he noticed her standing inside the window, but he glanced up into her eyes when he stepped up off the street. He looked away from her, then back again. Then he tipped his hat to as he walked past the window.
Her breath caught. He was shockingly handsome with the kind of face she almost couldn't bear to look at for fear she might be capable of nothing but staring.
She kept her attention on the street but sensed his position as he entered the saloon and moved over to the bar.
“Hello,” he said. “I'm looking for a woman named Fontaine.”
“She'll be back in here before too long, I expect. The woman she went looking for is standing over there at the window.”
Lizzy was relieved to know she'd been expected, but a little sickened by the knowledge that the handsome man was looking her way. She nearly jumped when footsteps sounded behind her again. Slower than before. Heavier than before. The big man was behind her. She'd be a coward if she didn't turn. So she did.
The man's brows drew together, then he grinned. “How do you do?”
Lizzy shrugged. “I'm not quite sure. Everyone seems to be frowning at me today.” She was incapable of thinking of anything enchanting to say.
He laughed lightly, then walked away from her without another word. She turned back to the window and watched his reflection, determined not to cry after being dismissed out of hand. She was tired and she didn't dare trust the silly thoughts flitting through her head, one of which was the notion to pick up her bag and started heading for home. But it wasn't in her to give up. And it wasn't her nature to allow rudeness to hurt her feelings.
The man came back. She refused to notice.
&
nbsp; He cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, Miss. I think I can help you.”
She turned to find him standing just behind her with another glass of water and yet another napkin. She opened her mouth to say that she didn't need another drink, thank you very much, but stopped when he dunked the cloth into the water.
Oh, dear heavens!
She covered her face with both hands and spun on her heel, but a hand to her shoulder turned her back.
“Here, now, brave girl.”
Brave. That was right. She was brave.
She opened her eyes and held out her hands for the items.
“Oh, no. I think I'd better help you,” he said, no longer grinning.
She sighed and lifted her chin to him. He squeezed the cloth against the side of the glass, then started at her brow. It felt like he was painting her face with the water. When he dipped the cloth again, the water turned gray. She was so mortified she closed her eyes even though it was the perfect opportunity to have a good look at his face. She heard the clink of the glass on the table, then she braced herself as he used a dry cloth to finish the job. She opened her eyes to find that he'd taken the first napkin from the table.
Over her shoulder, she found the bartender smiling at her. She smiled in return and mouthed a silent, “Thank you.” The man nodded and blushed.
“He tried to help me,” she explained to the tall one. “He brought me water, but I drank it.”
Together, they laughed.
Lizzy sensed movement to her right and turned toward it.
The woman in the red and gold gown was standing outside the saloon's window glaring at her.
“It looks like folks aren't finished frowning at me after all. Your wife doesn't look pleased.”
The handsome man sighed. “Not my wife, but my sister. You'll have to excuse me while I see to her.” He took his hat from the table and gave Lizzy a little bow, then walked out the swinging doors with a determined look on his face.
Lizzy watched him approach his sister where she still stood glaring through the window.
His voice was low, so she couldn't make out his words, but he pointed to the carriage. The sister then pointed at Lizzy. Her voice carried through the glass well enough.
“What are you thinking, putting your hands on that filthy urchin?”
The man frowned and spoke low. “...hardly an urchin.” He gestured to the carriage again. Lizzy could tell he was trying to lure the woman away from the window so as not to be overheard, but the woman never moved from her spot, which made her wonder if she wanted Lizzy to hear her unkind words. And she refused to get into the carriage without him.
“I'm waiting to make my appointment,” he said.
“And is she waiting for an appointment as well? Is that one of brides you'll be offered?”
“Caroline, he said sharply. You don't know what you're talking about. She's a child.”
Lizzy tried not to be hurt by his words. After all, she’d heard the same all her life. But coming from him made them sound like pity. And she never could stomach pity. But she wasn’t about to argue with him through a window.
She smiled at the image of jumping up and down, shouting she was not a child. She might have done just that, but she doubted the two rich people would see the humor in it.
“And hardly the kind of bride suitable for you, Jacob.”
“Of course not. Why don't you make yourself useful and see if the hotel has rooms for us. I'll find you when I'm finished.”
The woman faced the window again, raised her nose in the air and looked Lizzy over from head to toe before she rolled her eyes and walked away.
Lizzy prayed the man wouldn't come back inside. As lovely as he was to look at, his sister’s words had stung. Of course she never would have anticipated meeting a man like him in the rugged West, let alone marry one. She was, after all, expecting to marry a farmer, a rancher, or at least someone respectable. But she didn't like to think of herself as unworthy of anyone.
Too young, perhaps, for someone like him. He had to be nearing thirty, after all.
She shook herself. She hadn’t been picturing the man in her mind, she’d been staring directly at him while she’d been feeling sorry for herself. They were practically standing toe to toe with the big window between them. But instead of being insulted by her attention, he was looking at her with equal frankness.
His eyes skipped to hers and he smiled, though there was something sad, something pitying about the way the corners of his mouth turned down.
He tipped his hat to her, then turned away. She had to press her face to the glass to watch him. He didn’t go far, just to the side of the window where he leaned back against the outside wall and folded his arms.
She sighed, relieved he hadn’t come back inside. She couldn't have to put on a brave face and make conversation. And now she wouldn't have to concentrate on other things to keep from staring at his face.
Damn it.
CHAPTER FOUR
A woman in men's clothing crossed the street on an angle, headed for the saloon. The elusive Fontaine.
When she didn't actually come through the doors, Lizzy assumed the woman had stopped to speak with the handsome one.
“There you are,” the woman said when she stepped inside a moment later. “I've been looking everywhere for you. Missed the stage, eh?”
Lizzy nodded and snuck a look out the window to watch the handsome one walk past. He looked away from the glass as if on purpose.
Fontaine joined her. “Yeah, he's a looker. Quite a catch. I told him there was a bride right here,” she pointed to Lizzy. “That he'd save himself some money if he just scooped you up and took you to the preacher.”
Lizzy's eyes widened in horror. “You didn't!”
Fontaine frowned. “No, I didn't. I was just funnin'.” But the way she wouldn't look Lizzy in the eye meant the odd woman was lying.
Lizzy closed her eyes and groaned inwardly. She was mortified. She'd walked around town with mud on her face and been called a filthy urchin. The man himself agreed she wasn't an appropriate bride for the likes of him, and who knew what his reaction had been when Fontaine suggested he scoop Lizzy up while he could.
Well, there she stood, still un-scooped. So the man must have been horrified by the suggestion. He hadn't even dared look in the window as he hurried away. He was probably afraid he'd get stuck with her!
“Come on, then. The ranch isn't far. You'll feel good as new once you've had a bath, a meal, and a meeting with Mrs. Carnegie.”
Lizzy's stomach, now empty of water, growled like an old dog. Then it threatened to heave up when she thought of facing Mrs. Carnegie with mud in her hair. But at least her face was clean if she happened to run into the woman before that bath.
She tried to hold tight to the image of the man standing close, rubbing water on her cheeks. It was a nice distraction from the buckboard shifting beneath her sore behind.
~ ~ ~
Caroline was going to be a problem.
Jake knew he'd never get rid of his sister as long as there was a meeting with Mrs. Carnegie planned. But after that, he was going to have to send her back, at least as far as Denver and find a way to keep her there. He couldn't allow the little snob to go around insulting every young woman in the Wyoming Territory—one of them would shoot her!
That Fontaine was a good example. Holsters strapped to her thighs...
Were all the brides from Diamond Springs going to be dressed that way?
If so, he'd have to admit that Caroline was correct—the right woman for him couldn't be found in a place like Sage River.
What had he been thinking? A Western bride?
Lord help him.
He had to admit he’d been intrigued when he’d first heard wind of the school. The men at the Boston Chambers Club had certainly worn out their jaws disputing the merits of such a place. The women of Caroline’s tedious clutch had assured each other that a woman chosen from Mrs. Carnegie’s ranks would neve
r be accepted into their circles. And these were the individuals who peopled his world. Why would he consider exposing some innocent lady to their judgment?
What he’d told his sister was true, he had given her friends due consideration. He’d danced with the available and appropriate daughters and sisters of Boston society and found them lacking…something. And he had no doubt if he looked further afield, he’d find more of the same in New York. To choose one would be as exciting as choosing a gun from a room full of duplicates.
He’d rather shoot himself.
On the heels of that image came a disturbing thought—maybe it wasn’t the suitable women he was opposed to. Perhaps it was the life they were suited for.
He shook his head before that notion could take root and grow. There was nothing at all wrong with his life except for the lack of a wife at his side. He held a good portion of the textile industry by the reins, and he had more money than most of Boston’s society combined. Why in the world would he want to stir up trouble by taking home a Western bride?
No wonder Caroline thought he’d lost his wits.
He needed someone cultured and refined who could deal with the wives of the men he did business with. A female gunslinger wouldn't do. And neither would a child-bride. Though the face beneath the mud was lovely, her eyes captivating, and her smile able to melt his innards, she was little more than sixteen at best. But he couldn't wait four or five years for her to grow up. He needed to marry soon.
Besides, Caroline would eat her for breakfast.
But since he’d already come so far, he might as well take a look at what Mrs. Carnegie had to offer. There was always a chance he might find a woman who was both interesting and suitable for his city life.
He took a deep breath and relaxed a bit. He was thinking straight again. No more foolishness.
He’d missed a bullet.
He had to admit that he’d found Fontaine’s suggestion amusing. Had the girl been a full grown woman, he might have considered the idea. Scooping her up and taking her to the preacher.
