by Merry Farmer
“We could drive out there and take a look at the ranches, if you’d like.” Judging from the tone of Travis’s voice, he knew she wasn’t pleased with what she had seen already.
She couldn’t be ungrateful, not when he had done so much for her already. She squeezed his arm and tried to smile. “If that’s what you’d like, I’d be happy to see them both.” And she’d get to spend time talking to him, getting to know him. This feeling that they were strangers thrown together couldn’t go on forever.
“All right then.” Travis nodded, turning her to head down the side of town toward the livery. “I rode out from Paradise Ranch this morning, but we can go down and talk to Herb about renting one of his wagons for a ride.”
“I met Mr. Waters on the train,” she said as they changed direction and headed down one of Haskell’s side streets. “He seems very nice.”
“He is.” Travis nodded. “But I heard his sister in Denver is sick or something.”
Wendy hummed at his comment. It was almost as if they were a normal married couple discussing the news of their neighbors. But her heart was troubled. There were more differences between them than the colors of their skin. Travis was a rancher, she was a seamstress. He worked on the land, her work was best suited to town. He was the fish and she was the bird, and it remained to be seen where they would be able to build their nest.
Travis had never missed his Ma as much as he did in the first couple of days after getting married. He knew everything there was to know about herding cattle, about calving and raising young heifers, and even about branding and taking cattle to market. He even remembered a few things about timber and felling trees from growing up in Oregon.
He knew nothing at all about women.
No, that wasn’t right. He knew enough to guess that Wendy was disappointed over something, but he didn’t have a clue what that could be, other than him.
“Is she ticked off because I’ve left her at the hotel until things get sorted out with Bonneville?” he whispered to Mason as the two of them sat side-by-side in a pew at church, while the women’s choir sang. Cody sat on Mason’s far side, looking like he had burrs in his britches, and Wendy sat beside Travis. She had scootched to the edge of the pew so she could watch the women singing on the chancel without Mrs. Plover’s hat plumes blocking her view.
“You’d think a woman would be grateful to stay in a fine hotel without some rough-and-tumble ranch hand pawing at her,” Mason muttered back, failing to hide his grin.
“That’s what I thought too,” Travis whispered. “She’s a fine lady, and even if Howard would let us stay the Hen House for a week or two, what would Wendy do out on the ranch all day?”
Mason humphed.
Another thought struck him—one that made him itchy with possibility. “She couldn’t want me to stay with her at the hotel, could she?”
There was only one bed in that hotel room. Granted, he knew how to use it, but Wendy didn’t seem the type to cut straight to those sorts of things when, for all intents and purposes, they’d only just met. Not that he hadn’t lay awake the last few nights thinking about it. Wendy was one of the most exotically beautiful women he’d ever met, and her figure alone made him think—
He cleared his throat, remembering they were in church. “Maybe if I rented another room in the hotel, just to be close to her.”
Mason leaned toward him. “You really have the money to stay in a hotel for as long as it takes Bonneville to write up that contract for you?”
“No.” Travis sighed.
“Have you tried talking to your wife about this instead of whispering about it in church where heaven only knows who can overhear you?”
Travis winced. He twisted as subtly as he could to see who was sitting behind them. Dr. Dean Meyers and Aiden Murphy may have had their eyes fixed on their wives in the choir and their squirming children around them, but their grins said that Travis hadn’t whispered quietly enough.
“Sorry,” he muttered and shifted in his seat, crossing his arms and pretending he was listening to the choir too.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Wendy staring at him. She must have thought he caught her staring too, since both of them snapped their eyes straight forward as soon as they made contact.
Wish you were here, Ma. Travis shook his head and forced himself to listen to the singing. Maybe if he wrote to her, she’d send back some advice. At least he had the baseball game later to distract him.
His uneasiness hadn’t let up by a hair as church finished and everyone stood to socialize. It was too chilly and blustery for everyone to head outside to the yard beside the church for a potluck, the way they usually did. The potluck was held inside the school on days like this. But for now, people formed circles and chatted with their neighbors in the church. If only so many of them weren’t staring at him and Wendy.
“My, what a lovely dress,” Emma Meyers commented as she and Dean, Aiden and Katie Murphy, their youngest children, Travis and Wendy formed a cluster off to one side of the pews.
Cody had already turned tail and run along with the older children, and Mason had gone after him. At least Travis wouldn’t have to deal with his brother’s awkwardness around Wendy.
“Thank you,” Wendy answered Emma with all the grace of a city lady. That, at least, put a smile on Travis’s face.
“I heard that a seamstress was coming to marry Cody Montrose,” Katie added in her lilting, Irish accent. “Though I don’t suppose things worked out quite as they were planned.” She laughed.
Emma flushed, anxious eyes darting between Katie and Wendy.
Wendy just smiled. “Things worked out well, regardless.”
Travis let out a sigh of relief. He had no idea how women communicated delicate little things like moods and teasing to each other, but it was clear from the way all three women relaxed that there were no hard feelings.
“Oh, you know who you should meet?” Katie brushed on. “Estelle Tremaine. Estelle!” She raised her voice and her arms to wave at Graham Tremaine’s wife across the room.
Travis craned his neck to see exactly where his friends, Graham and Estelle, were standing. In the process of searching, he stumbled across Rex Bonneville, staring at him with narrowed eyes from a spot near the front of the church. Bonneville was surrounded by his daughters—Vivian, Melinda, and Bebe preening and flirting with whatever young gentlemen made the mistake of getting too close, and Honoria, standing with her head bowed and her hands clasped in front of her—but he broke away from them and started toward Travis as soon as their eyes met.
“Oh, boy,” Travis murmured under his breath.
The ladies were chattering away, Estelle and Graham were heading in their direction, so Travis took the opportunity to step far enough to the side that by the time Bonneville reached him, he wouldn’t make a scene and disturb the others.
“I’ve heard about your shocking lapse of judgment,” Bonneville growled, without so much as an introduction, as soon as he reached Travis.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Bonneville?” Travis replied, resting his hands on his hips and standing straight and proud.
Bonneville moved closer and lowered his voice. “Frankly, I was appalled to hear that someone like you, with a reputation for responsibility, would up and marry a—” He called Wendy a name that left Travis seething with offense. Bonneville neither noticed his reaction nor cared. “But I am willing to overlook that obscenity, as long as she keeps a low profile and doesn’t bring disgrace to my name or that of my ranch.”
Through clenched jaw, Travis asked, “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play innocent with me.” Bonneville narrowed his eyes. “Most ranchers would withdraw their offer of employment if they knew what kind of a wife went along with the deal.”
“And you? Are you withdrawing your offer?” The idea didn’t bother Travis as much as he expected it should. Then again, with Luke already settled into the job he had vacated, if Bonneville dropped him,
what did Travis have to go back to?
A few of his friends were glancing in his direction, their looks questioning.
“I said I was willing to overlook the matter.” Bonneville’s smile was tight. “As long as certain conditions are met.”
“Conditions?” Travis hated the sound of that. He ground his back teeth, searching his mind for a smooth way to get out of the deal. But, dammit, he’d already more or less locked himself in, whether Bonneville knew it or not. Now more than ever. After all, he had Wendy to think about. She was a fine woman who had lived in a city. It was as like as not that she was upset because she’d figured out she was hitched to a man with callouses on his hands and dirt under his nails. He wouldn’t be worthy of her until he’d bought his own land and started his own ranch.
“I don’t want you parading that wife of yours around,” Bonneville went on, blessedly quiet. “I’m offering you double what Haskell paid you and a cabin on my property in exchange for certain…loyalties.”
“What loyalties?” An itch ran down Travis’s back. He had a bad feeling he’d find out as soon as Bonneville handed him the contract he was supposed to sign.
“I’m willing to overlook your poor choice in wives,” Bonneville went on. “Even though I had hoped that you would look to one of my daughters.”
Travis’s brow flew up. That was news. But then, the Bonneville girls weren’t getting any younger, and rumors were beginning to circulate that all four of them would end up as spinsters if they didn’t sweeten their attitudes.
Still, Travis had no idea what to reply. He shifted his weight, rubbed his neck, and mulled over the wisest response he could make without looking like he didn’t really want the job.
“Why, a dress shop is a lovely idea.” Katie Murphy’s loud proclamation from the conversation behind them split through the thoughts Travis was forming into words. “Haskell is in sore need of a feminine touch. I suppose that’s what comes from a man founding a town.”
“I know I would buy dresses from you,” Lucy Faraday added in a voice as loud as Katie’s.
Travis hadn’t noticed her arrival in the group behind him. He hadn’t noticed Howard and Elizabeth Haskell joining them either. In fact, while he’d been talking to Bonneville, the small cluster of friends had turned into a large circle of curious well-wishers and distant neighbors. Wendy was now the focus of the room. Travis abandoned Bonneville and stepped up to her side to show her support.
“I…I have hopes of starting a dress shop only,” Wendy emphasized to the rapt crowd now studying her. “It was just an idea Travis and I were discussing the other day. In truth, I believe it would take a lot of work to launch a business.”
“Perhaps, but that kind of business is badly needed around here,” Katie said.
“I’m sure you would have a loyal clientele in no time,” Estelle added.
Wendy glanced to Travis. Her eyes were full of thanks that he had returned to her side. He subtly offered his arm in support, and she took it. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his arm, but her face didn’t betray a lick of fear. Travis’s heart beat harder, he was so impressed with his wife’s aplomb.
“What’s this about a dressmaker?” The calm and easy mood of the conversation was shattered by Vivian Bonneville’s shrill demand.
The already large circle widened as Vivian and her sisters and Rex Bonneville wedged their way into the conversation.
“This is Mrs. Wendy Montrose,” Katie took the reins of the conversation and explained. “She’s new to Haskell, and she’s a seamstress.”
“Isn’t her dress today just lovely?” Emma asked. Several people responded with hums of approval.
“My dresses are lovely too,” Melinda insisted, a little too loud. “See? Piper Strong is wearing one of the dresses I made right now.”
As one, women in the circle twisted to look across the church to where an energetic young woman with strawberry-blonde hair was wrangling a herd of small children, her nieces and nephews.
“What lovely work,” Wendy complimented the dress. Travis grinned at her diplomacy.
“Of course it is,” Melinda barked. “I was trained by the finest couturiers in Paris.”
“You made me translate that French book of fashion and then show you how to cut out the patterns,” Honoria mumbled.
“Shut up, Honoria,” Melinda and Vivian snapped at the same time.
Most of the group didn’t hear Honoria’s comment and were startled at the retort she was given. The moment of stunned silence was broken by Howard.
“That settles it,” he said. “Mrs. Montrose is new to our town and she has skills that are sorely needed. There is plenty of space in the buildings already constructed in Haskell, so I will personally endorse and fund a dress shop under her care and management.”
A wave of gasps and delight passed through the group. Wendy sagged against Travis. His alarm lasted only as long as it took for him to see the joy in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks, and to feel the trembling that passed through her.
“Mr. Haskell, I don’t know what to say,” she replied, breathless. “This is a dream come true. It is a—”
“You can not give that woman her own dress shop,” Melinda all but shouted.
“This is absurd,” Vivian agreed.
Silence fell, and all eyes turned to the Bonneville sisters.
“Why not?” Katie asked at last, frowning.
“Just look at her,” Vivian sneered. “She’s so…so…”
“Negro,” Bebe filled in for her.
Another shocked silence was broken by Howard’s snorting laugh. “Last I checked, the color of one’s skin had nothing to do with their skills with a needle. Now, Mrs. Montrose—”
“But I wanted to start a dress shop,” Melinda screeched.
“And you shall, my dear,” Bonneville insisted. He stared Howard down with fire in his eyes. “My daughter will have a dress shop if she wants one, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“Who says I want to stop you?” Howard shrugged. “And who’s to say that we can’t have two dress shops in town? We have two doctors, after all. Why, Haskell could become the Paris of Wyoming. Women could flock here from all over the West to purchase the finest—”
“I will not have a daughter of mine soiling her hands by competing with a—”
This time, when Bonneville insulted Wendy, half of the people around them gasped in disgust. Emma covered her young daughter’s ears and whisked her off to the side. Aiden carried his and Katie’s children away behind her, but Katie stayed to fight.
“Are you afraid of a little competition, Mr. Bonneville?” she raged on behalf of Wendy and, Travis suspected, everyone else who had been oppressed by landowners like Bonneville for decades, in America and in Katie’s homeland of Ireland.
“Certainly not.” Bonneville sniffed and turned away from Katie. “I believe there are laws forbidding her sort from owning businesses, is all.”
“There are not,” Estelle spoke up. Several of the people watching the confrontation hummed in agreement. Of all people in Haskell, Estelle would know. She too had been born a slave, even though her father had been the plantation owner.
“If you’re so keen to open a dress shop, Melinda,” Katie asked, crossing her arms, “how come you haven’t done it already? You’ve been living here for years now.”
“Well.” Melinda sniffed and tossed her curls. “I was just about to get around to doing it.”
Katie clearly didn’t believe her, and neither did Travis. It was about time he came to his wife’s defense.
“If you ask me, the women of Haskell should have a choice of who will make their dresses.” He turned a smile to Wendy. She was baffled by the conflict, but smiled in return anyhow.
“Why, that’s a splendid idea,” Howard boomed. “We’ll decide this through competition.”
A few of the people watching the discussion cheered. Several more moaned, hiding their faces in their hands. Travis only raised an e
yebrow. His former boss liked competitions a little too much. They didn’t always work out the way he planned either.
“What do you mean, a competition?” Travis asked what he was sure several others were thinking.
The glow in Howard’s eyes grew. He hooked his thumbs in the pocket of his vest and rocked back on his feet. “What we have here is an opportunity. We have two talented young women who want to open dress shops, and we have a wealth of women who need dresses. What I propose is that each of our seamstresses, the new Mrs. Montrose and Miss Melinda Bonneville, present the town with a series of dress designs, say, next Sunday. The ladies of Haskell will peruse the designs, deciding which ones they like best, and place their orders with our seamstresses. Then, Mrs. Montrose and Miss Bonneville will be given one week to complete and deliver as many dresses as they can based on their orders. At the end of the competition, the clients will score the designs and executions. Whichever seamstress completes the most satisfactory designs within the allotted time will be granted her dress shop.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Bonneville drawled. “My Melinda can’t possibly be expected to work that hard within that short a space of time. It’s impossible. It’s degrading. It’s—”
“I’ll do it,” Wendy spoke up, a fierce grin lighting her beautiful face. “Just give me the chance, and I’ll do it and then some.”
Chapter Five
Ripples of excitement ran through the room. Travis could feel it swirling around Wendy. Before he knew it, he was caught up too.
“You really want to have a competition to make dresses?” he asked, leaning closer to her to be heard over the murmurs and comments.
